The Lion and the Unicorn
by lone astronomer
Summary: *complete* When Charlie receives a very mysterious letter, his world is turned upside-down. Soon he is off to England to fight things he never knew existed...
1. A Message

The Lion and the Unicorn __

The Lion and the Unicorn

Disclaimer: It's all J. K. Rowling's.

Summary: We fight the darkness, but do we ever win? A Charlie Weasley story.

Chapter One: A Message

__

'The lion and the unicorn fought for the crown.

The lion beat the unicorn all round the town.

Some gave them white bread and some gave them brown;

Some gave them plum cake and drummed them out of town.'

The sun dawning over the Black Sea cast errant rays of light through the half-open window, illuminating the young man's face in high relief. Charlie Weasley grumbled and rolled over, making a mental note to turn the hostel 'round so that his window faced the west when he awoke properly, but made no effort to get up. As it was barely six-thirty and not a suitable time to be awake, Charlie had no intention whatsoever of bothering to get up before eight o'clock.

The owl flapping outside his window had other ideas. The incessant tapping noise was loud enough for Charlie to pull his pillow over his ears, but the repetitive sound could not be blocked. The owl just tapped louder than ever. _Figures that I'd be able to sleep through the roaring and stomping and screaming of mating Romanian Stubnoses, but not the tapping of an owl._

Sighing resignedly and wondering if he'd ever get a truly good night's sleep, Charlie threw the window open the rest of the way. The owl alighted on his bedpost, pleased with itself, and held out its leg importantly. 

The parchment, bearing the seal of Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, looked more than a little foreboding to Charlie. Still, he slit it open with his thumb and began to read.

__

Dear Mr. Weasley,

In recent months it has become apparent to you that all is not well in the wizarding world. I fear that the disaster at the Triwizard Tournament is only the beginning. It's come to my attention, and that of others, that Romania could become a bargaining zone. If I have one piece of advice to give you, it's to watch for strangers. You'll know them when you see them.

Concernedly yours,

Albus Dumbledore

Charlie frowned. It wasn't unlike Dumbledore to be so cryptic, but if this was so important… He shook off the bad vibes he'd been getting and threw on a pair of trousers over his sleeping shorts. Grabbing his notes, his wand, a quill and his jacket, he headed into the communal kitchen to grab a quick breakfast.

Anya and Jacques were already up. Coffee was brewing and breakfast on the table. "Morning, Charlie," Anya said cheerfully, tossing her dark hair out of her face.

"Mmm," mumbled Charlie, scribbling away on his notepad. 

"Ah, c'est un beau matin," Jacques commented in French. "Bee-you-tiful morning, hien, Charles?"

"Mmhmm," responded Charlie, signing his letter with a flourish and finally looking up. "Has the female chosen a spot to lay her eggs yet?"

Anya shook her head, half-Shee eyes lidded and shadowed with exhaustion. "No, but you should've heard them last night. How did you sleep?"

"Very well, thanks to a strong Silence Charm and one too many glasses of vodka. What about you, Jacques?"

"L'amour!" Jacques said with a roguish grin. "I was not inside sleeping, mais non, I was outside watching zem!"

Anya grinned, as if she has been expecting this. "Definite downside to being a dragon- there is no privacy."

Even Charlie could barely suppress a smile. "You never struck me as the voyeur type, Jacques."

"You laugh," Jacques retorted, "but wait until ze love bug, she bites you-"

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "You're in love with Anita?"

Jaques shook his head haughtily. "Mais non! Ce n'est pas elle qui a mes attentions! But Alonzo…"

Not really surprised, Charlie went about eating his breakfast with a knowing look upon his face. _And I thought practicing inappropriate charms on a goat was bad._ The French omelet Jacques had obviously made was quite good, however, and so he made no further comment, being rather engrossed in his food. _Now, where is that ruddy owl?_

Dear Professor,

What's this about bargaining zones and strangers? I'll keep my eyes out for newcomers, but be warned- I don't get out much. There are only fifteen of us taking care of these two dragons, and I only get into 'town' about once a month. I still don't know what you want me to do. Could you please be a little less vague?

Yours confusedly,

Charlie Weasley

Charlie tucked the note into the owl's pouch and set him out the window, watching him fly off into the distance. Then, he grabbed his wand and notepad once again and went outside to watch the dragons.

*

Anita, it seemed, had chosen a spot for her nest earlier that morning when everyone was eating breakfast. She'd settled down near the base of the massive cliff in a dense brush that would soon be trampled down into more of a nest-shape. Rocks naturally lined the edges of the brush and there was just barely enough room for her to lie down. 

Once the eggs hatched, it would be crowded, but that was a given anyway. At the moment she was glaring furiously at Alonzo, who had tried to approach her at a bad moment and was now sulking by the sea.

Charlie roughly sketched the location of the nest into his logbook, noting that it faced east and was protected on the other three sides. He was also somewhat amused at Anita's anti-male behavior at the moment; he vaguely remembered the mood-swings his mother had had when she was pregnant with Ginny. By that time, however, his father had had a lot of experience with the pregnant Molly and knew when to back off. Alonzo, being a good eighty years younger than Anita, had no such experience, and it showed.

Anita had plenty of experience. While she was a hundred fifty years old, she was hardly approaching middle age for a dragon. 

Alonzo was seventy-three and just barely full-grown, having molted out of his last adolescent skin only six months earlier. He was a beautiful mixture of roan and brown, crested with a deep gold on his head and neck. Anita, normally black and green and silver, had strange gray marks between scales on her belly, and Charlie gathered from this that she was nearly ready to lay the eggs.

A thump beside him startled him out of his halfhearted musings, and Charlie diverted some of his attention from his drawing. "Seems that Anita's found a spot she likes at last," he commented, doodling a bit more on his notepad.

Anya showed her concurrence with the barest shake of her head. "Where've you been all day? Your thoughts are anywhere but here."

"Feeling my age," Charlie joked, not looking up.

Anya looked over his shoulder, watching the pencil as Charlie sketched away. "That's somewhat depressing," she finally said. Charlie wasn't sure if she meant his comment or the drawing. "Trouble back home?"

Charlie sighed and finally put down the notepad. "Yeah. I'm not sure exactly what- Dumbledore wrote me and told me to keep my eye out for strangers, but that was basically it. Kind of cryptic, you know?"

Anya nodded. "Typical of him."

"Most definitely," Charlie agreed. "But it's made me think."

"Small miracle," Anya said, smiling a little. "Not surprising that it didn't put you off your breakfast, though." She poked him in the stomach. "How can you eat like that and not gain weight?"

Charlie looked up, somewhat amused. "We spend eighteen hours a day, seven days a week, running around chasing dragons and you're asking me why I'm not fat?"

She shrugged. "Makes sense that you eat so much." This sentence was punctuated with a yawn, and the two of them lapsed into silence again. 

Across the valley, the other four cabins that housed dragon keepers were starting to buzz to life. A few sparks here, some smoke from a fire there, and the general bustle of the camp was restored to its daily constant. Charlie often found it somewhat amusing that he roomed with crazy early-risers, when he would much rather have had a more normal schedule. Then again, he didn't get on nearly as well with any of the other keepers like he did with Anya and Jacques.

"Did you know," Charlie finally said, "that someone actually died during the Triwizard Tournament?"

Anya's face closed off a bit. "I'd heard," she said, "but I thought it was just a rumor."

Charlie nodded. "Seventeen years old and destined for Head Boy-dom, Captain of the Quidditch team and all-around do-gooder. There was absolutely no reason he had to die. Did you hear how it happened?"

Anya shook her head wordlessly.

Charlie let his breath out slowly. "Voldemort. He's back, you know. Things will dissolve into anarchy any day now. We're still too weak to withstand that kind of onslaught right now. Under Fudge, who won't even acknowledge that he's back in power, we haven't got a chance…" His head dropped into his hands.

His companion was silent for a long while. "Charlie, how old were you when Voldemort fell?"

"Only ten."

"Then let me tell you how it was when he reigned. When he first rose, there was a mad sort of a rush to just about anyplace you could think of. Folks stocked up on food, potions supplies, extra wands, robes, talismans, you name it. A lot of people quit their jobs to be home with their families. Those who did work did that and not much else, most of them being Aurors or Ministry employees with a better sense of duty and loyalty. We all went to sleep knowing that we could wake up with our family dead, or might not wake up at all.

"This had an expected effect on the economy. Diagon Alley became deserted and Knockturn Alley flourished. You couldn't trust anyone, so nobody had friends and nobody went out to dinner. Restaurants closed. St. Mungo's was overrun with curse-wounded patients. One in every three newborn babies was killed by corrupt mediwizards."

Anya sighed and continued. "I'm not saying that hiding the whole thing is a condonable course of action, Charlie. Just that, were you in Minister Fudge's shoes, you would be quite reluctant to announce Voldemort's return to power, as well."

*

Charlie awoke somewhat late the next morning, which was a blessing. It was Cabin Four's turn to wake up early and check on Anita's situation before breakfast and it had been Cabin Three's turn to stay up late the night before. Naturally that meant that Charlie got to sleep in, something he would never again take for granted.

Anya and Jaques, of course, were already awake and making breakfast in the kitchen- neither of them wanted to brave Charlie's cooking, which left something to be desired. "Morning, Charlie," Anya called in her usual cheerful manner. 

"'Morning," Charlie answered somewhat sleepily, mulling over his orange juice.

"Anita laid her eggs during the night," Anya informed him as she set his hash browns down in front of him. "Alonzo was ecstatic. He nearly set fire to Cabin One." She grinned. "Anita has him sitting with them now. It's comical how human they act. Oh, and this came for you." Anya handed him a roll of parchment from the counter.

Charlie glanced down at it, noting the Hogwarts seal in the middle. "Thanks, Anya. Breakfast was delicious." He excused himself and went to his room to open the letter.

As it turned out, it wasn't only a letter. When he did unroll it, a small newspaper clipping fell out. Holding that in his left hand, Charlie scanned quickly through the letter.

__

Charlie,

Circumstances dictate that you return to England immediately as your kind is in high demand. I'm afraid I have very little else to add that I can safely send you in a letter, but take this newspaper clipping for notice- it is imperative that I speak to you in person. I shall arrange a meeting through your father.

Your Headmaster,

A. Dumbledore

Charlie took one look at the newspaper clipping before hanging his head. "Oh, no."


	2. A Voyage

The Lion and the Unicorn __

The Lion and the Unicorn

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J. K. Rowling. No infringement is intended, etc., etc.

Summary: We find out what's upset Charlie, learn a bit more about Shee, hang around with some very hip dragons and a confused French guy.

Pronunciation guide: Joshi- just like Yoshi. My favorite derivative of Johannes. Pretty cool, eh?

__

Now, those who were living just tried to survive

In a mad world of blood, death and fire 

And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive 

Though around me the corpses piled higher 

Chapter Two: A Voyage

Still staring somewhat dumbly at the article, Charlie let his thoughts wander. _Who could have done this? Or what? _On the somewhat wrinkled sheet of newsprint in front of him was a black and white photograph of a house, burning brightly, beside a caption which was at the same time confusing and gut-wrenching.

__

Two Killed in Ireland House Fire

Ministry officials are befuddled by the house fire which started July 4th for causes as yet undetermined. A source indicates that the fire was totally preventable and should not under any circumstances have caused death for the occupants. The Shee, James, and his Muggle wife Johanna Dickinson, the former of which should have been able to stop the fire, perished in the inferno. Their infant son managed to escape fate, and will be taken care of by a neighbor until his legal guardian can be reached. The sole witness of the blaze was unavailable for questioning.

An icy knot settled into Charlie's stomach and suddenly he felt very ill. Although there were no obvious Dark ties to the article, there were some classic aspects- Shee were creatures of the Light side by nature, and although highly mischievous, possessed powers which did not require a wand and were difficult for even witches and wizards to comprehend. Add that on top of the mixed marriage, and it was almost a typical Dark killing. And then there was the burning house and the surviving infant…

And _James_ _Dickinson_.

It was a coincidence, and Charlie knew it, but there was something familiar about the whole thing. James was the name of Harry Potter's father, and Harry's mother had been Muggle-born. Both of them had died, but Harry had lived… Like Harry's parents, the Shee were supposed to be accident-proof. A house fire couldn't possibly kill off a full Shee.

What was it Anya had said about the ancient charms that protected Shee households?

The full impact of the name 'Dickinson' hit Charlie full on. _Oh, bugger_, he thought. _Anya._

*

Charlie found her in the small study, flipping through a novel at an annoyingly quick pace. He knocked gently. "Can I come in?"

Anya looked up, a bit startled, and grinned uncertainly, probably noting his somewhat bleak mood. Under normal circumstances she would have replied with, "If you dare," but instead she just pulled her feet down from the other chair and gestured him towards it. "Sure."

Charlie sat somewhat awkwardly, fidgeting with the piece of paper in his hands. "I- um- I know you aren't really keeping up with news back in Ireland," he said quietly. "But I- I thought you should see this." He slid the clipping across the table. "I- I'm _sorry_, Anya."

Anya took her time reading through the clipping and then swallowed audibly, her fingers curling into helpless fists around it. "Oh God," she whispered. "_Leon_."

"Is that the boy's name?" Charlie asked softly. 

"Oh God, Charlie, that was my _brother_- and Johanna was the sweetest thing ever to grace the Earth- Charlie, he's only nine months old!" Anya's head dropped and she curled up in her chair, rocking back and forth gently. "I can't- I _can't-_"

"It's alright," he said in a mostly successful attempt to be comforting. "I mean- it's not alright, but it will be, Anya. You'll see." He pried one of her hands away from her face, rubbing it soothingly. 

"You don't understand," she said, apparently exasperated with him. "James was my brother- I already told you that my father died before James was born… and James' mother became an alcoholic after- alcoholic Shee are very depressing- so _she_ didn't live for much longer- Charlie, _what am I going to do with a nine-month-old baby?_"

This had obviously never occurred to Charlie. _And I thought I was having a lousy day_. "Oh, Jeez," he said simply, feeling somewhat stupid. "I'd forgotten about that. Just try not to worry too much. You'll make a great surrogate mother."

"I don't _want_ to be a surrogate mother- Leon deserves his own parents; what child doesn't? No one should have to grow up with half a family."

"I know," Charlie said softly. "If anyone knows, I do."

Anya sniffed once and looked up at him. "I'll have to quit my job," she said wistfully. "It's far too dangerous for a child."

Charlie shrugged. "So do I. I've just received a somewhat urgent message from England and I haven't any home leave time left. But I have a feeling that where I'm going isn't even going to be as safe as it is here with the dragons."

Anya closed her eyes and pulled herself to her feet. "Well, Charlie, pack your stuff. We should leave before it gets any darker."

*

__

Dear Professor,

Don't bother with contacting my father. I'm sure he's busy enough with the state of chaos the Ministry is presumably in. We- that is, my friend and I- will be coming straight to Hogwarts. We should be there sometime today or tomorrow.

Yours,

Charlie Weasley

*

"So how are we getting back to England?" Charlie asked a half an hour later, finally catching up with Anya in the yard. "It's too far to Floo or Apparate, and we've got too much luggage to take a Portkey out of here."

"We are going in the height of style," Anya informed him, keeping up her brisk pace. "Jacques! Damn it, Jacques, where are you?"

"'Ere, Anya!" he called from the edge of the forest. "I am preparing ze ride- you will be careful, hien? Jacques does not want to be peeling you off any mountain somewhere. Zis is a delicate operation, yes? No, 'ow zey say, falling asleep at ze wheel."

"Why do I have a bad feeling about this?" Charlie asked, just as Jacques turned to the forest and yelled, "Bring 'im 'ere, eh?"

A great shadow fell across the ground as a magnificent beast lit on the ground beside them. The dragon was relatively small compared to Anita and Alonzo, roan red and fiery orange in color. Charlie supposed he was an adolescent; the harness on the beast's neck was worn in spots but had obviously been readjusted recently. There were also a few huge scales hanging loose on his flanks- he had molted recently, which explained the readjustment. 

"Allo, Joshi!" Jacques called cheerfully, presumably to the dragon. "Wie geht's, wie steht's?"

'Joshi' snorted, plumes of rich-smelling smoke spewing from his nostrils.

"Tres bien," Jacques said. "Alors, Charles, Anya, adieu. Good-bye, mes amis, au revoir, bon voyage, arrividerci, and- as zey say in Allemagne- Auf Wiedersehen!"

Still a bit shocked, Charlie climbed up into the saddle. There were two seats in the harness, in front of which hung two enormous saddlebags in which they stashed their belongings. Anya called a final farewell to the other dragon keepers, then clucked loudly in Joshi's ear, and they were off.

Adolescent dragons, Charlie soon discovered, were extremely fancy fliers, and Anya was loving every minute of it. She let out ecstatic whoops of laughter after every daring turn and was soon kneeling in the saddle rather than sitting with her legs bent beneath her and to her sides, as she was meant to. She had her arms out at her sides for balance and her eyes closed, apparently reveling in the feel of the wind in her hair.

Charlie looked over the side, swallowed hard, and held on tighter. Riding a broomstick was one thing; dragons were quite another. Especially adolescent ones who seemed to delight in taking swooping dives over valleys and Muggle villages…

*

Eight hours later, Anya was calm again, watching the endless waves roll below them. She was stretched full-out, resting her head on part of Joshi's crest and her feet in the saddle.

"Er… Anya," Charlie said, finally voicing his concern, "How exactly… did Jacques tame this guy?"

"Mm? Oh, not _him_, Charlie. Not exactly… Well, I suppose I can tell you. It _looked_ like Jacques was controlling the dragon, but he really just has a soft spot for him. We raised Joshi from almost a hatchling- Simon and Ralph dropped him off when he was a month or two old. It should have been impossible to keep him under control, but you know Shee magic-" she shrugged. "It pops up at the most opportune times. In other words, Joshi's a wild dragon. Just not around Jacques and I."

"Oh," Charlie said. Then, "Jack's not Shee."

"No," Anya answered simply, suddenly sitting up straighter. "Do you see land over there?"

Joshi did. Even as Charlie turned his head to look, the dragon swooped to port, causing Charlie's stomach to lurch. "Oh boy. Anya… you don't happen to have an incredibly strong anti-motion-sickness charm up your sleeve, do you?"

"Oh!" She sat up suddenly, still perfectly balanced. "I'm sorry, Charlie!" She passed her hand over his eyes, and the queasiness subsided somewhat.

"Thanks," Charlie said, the color returning to his face. 

Joshi swooped once more, and suddenly there was land beneath them. "Hey… didn't we just skip a large piece of sky?"

"Probably the Skyspace bindings keeping the isles closer together," Charlie answered. "When they put in the Broomstick Network last year they made some… modifications… to the magic skyway. There was a lot of chaos at first because it interfered with Muggle air travel, but then Renee Forge developed that Exception Charm."

Anya looked at him strangely. "I have no idea what you're talking about, but I'll take your word for it." She squinted into the setting sun, searching the skyline for familiar landmarks. "Is that Hogwarts?"

Charlie looked where she had indicated. "I think so… yes, and there's the lake. You don't mind if we go there first…?"

Anya shook her head. "We've flown long enough. Let's get down and use our legs for a bit."

Charlie remembered her 'using her legs' while they were somewhere above Scandinavia, but said nothing. Anya leaned forward to whisper to Joshi again, and immediately they began their descent. Charlie felt his stomach lurch as they dropped down through and scattered a flock of geese (Joshi's tongue flicked out and ensnared a few), thanking Anya once again for the anti-motion-sickness charm. Then Joshi landed, with a muffled thump and a crash, between the lake and a large clearing near a cabin. _Wonder if Hagrid's still here or if he's gone on that mission…_

Charlie's unspoken question was answered with a friendly- and very loud- greeting and a nearly bone-crushing hug. "Charlie!" Hagrid roared, "How're yeh doing? Yeh didn' tell me you were comin'! And yeh've brought… yeh've brought a _visitor_!"

"Hi, Hagrid," Charlie wheezed. "This is-"

Charlie was about to introduce Anya, but Hagrid was looking right past her as she unloaded the saddlebags. "Norbert!" 

__

Who? Oh, the dragon. Hagrid had attempted to throw his huge arms around the dragon's front leg, and Joshi was looking at him quite strangely. "Erm- Hagrid, that's Joshi, and the lovely woman who's unloading the luggage for me- stop that, by the way, I'll get it later- is Anya Dickinson."

"Charlie, yeh never told me how big he'd got- he's got to be a quarter of the way through adolescence- Hullo, Anye." Hagrid paused to proffer a great hand. "I, er- I have ter go tomorrar," he apologized roughly to Charlie. "Business for Dumbledore, y'know."

"Oh," Charlie replied, a bit disappointed. "Well, to be honest, that's why _we're_ here. Why I'm here, anyway. Anya's here because-"

Anya put a hand on his arm. "I'm here to visit my family," she said gently, reproving Charlie for his babbling. "We should go see Dumbledore."

"Right," Charlie acquiesced. "Well, maybe I'll see you later, Hagrid. Keep in touch. Oh, and watch out for Joshi- er, _Norbert_'s clumsiness. If he steps on your foot, it'll have to be re-grown." 

Hagrid bid them goodbye, already preoccupied with 'mothering' Norbert, and they grabbed their things and turned towards the castle, silent once more.

They reached the headmaster's office and found that they could go no further, as neither of them knew the password. "I remember the last time I was here," Anya said wistfully. "Snape was so mad- I'd enchanted all of the suits of armor to speak absolute nonsense. The one in the corridor across from the kitchen used to sing The Jolly Beggerman whenever Snape walked by. I still don't know how he figured out it was me that did it."

Charlie grinned. "Sounds like something typical of my brothers- they enchanted the toilet seats in the Prefects' bathroom to bite once."

Anya laughed. "No, no- that's a practical joke. It has a definite victim- those poor Prefects! _I_ only deal in shenanigans- no victim, nobody gets hurt, and nobody gets angry or vengeful. Unless you're a sore loser, like Snape…"

That was as far as they got, because the gargoyle slid aside and Dumbledore's voice could be heard. "And Fletcher, Arabella- spread the word, would you? Or we'll have trouble no matter _what_ we try to do. There's no way we can get anyone to join up if they think we're conspiring with…" By the sounds of things, the whole group was drawing nearer. Anya and Charlie exchanged glances, then peered into the stairway.

And the world was turned upside down. "Get _back_, Charlie!" Anya shouted, and a blast of pure white light illuminated the hallway.

There was the muffled sound of swearing, and four people were drawn into the corridor, one of them pinned to the wall. "Damnit, Moony, I _told_ you we should've been more careful-"

"Shut up, you great prat, and start thinking of a way out of this," responded one of the two free men. He had startlingly blue eyes, a worn-looking face, and hair streaked prematurely with gray. 

Charlie pulled himself up off of the floor. "Merlin, Anya, are you trying to kill me?"

"No," she replied through gritted teeth, hardly moving a muscle. "But _he _might be."

Black swore again. "Uh, Headmaster? A little help here would be great." 

Charlie turned to the Headmaster, who had just appeared from his office. "Good evening, lady and gentleman," he said, the usual twinkle conspicuously absent from his eye. "I see you've met my visitors."

Anya lowered her arms and looked at him curiously. "Visitors?" The white pinpricks that had fastened Sirius to the wall disappeared. She slumped over a bit, as if exhausted. "You- but- he's…" She breathed deeply for a few moments. "He's innocent, isn't he?"

"Very good," Sirius said dryly, shaking his hands out to rid them of the nasty tingle. "What tipped you off? The fact that I was in Hogwarts visiting or the fact that I was with two noted ex-Aurors? Or was it just my breathtaking good looks?"

"Your fly is open," Anya said.

"That tipped you off?" Sirius asked, half-turning to correct the problem. 

Anya shrugged. "My mental image of a raving, mass-murdering lunatic doesn't involve leather pants."

"Your mental image of a raving, mass-murdering lunatic is lacking something," Sirius muttered to himself. He looked up at Dumbledore somewhat grumpily. "Back to the drawing board," he said, sighing.

Dumbledore's other visitors- who turned out to be Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher, Remus Lupin and Sirius Black- spent the rest of the evening explaining everything. 'Everything' ranged from Peter Pettigrew's betrayal to the newly revived Order of the Phoenix to why Sirius was wearing leather in the middle of July. "So now that you know everything," Dumbledore said, tapping his wand lightly on the desk, "I must ask you to decide."

"Decide?" Anya asked blankly.

"Yes," the Headmaster replied. "We can't have anyone knowing of our actions- they are still unsanctioned by the government and we can't risk any leaks. You'll have to decide- will you aid us in our cause?"

"What happens if we decide we don't want to?"

Dumbledore shrugged sadly. "No one can be sure. I'll have to wipe your memories of this conversation. Charlie could go back to Romania. You could get on with other things in the world."

Anya reflected on the days when she'd been younger, barely grown up in a world of utter chaos, and wondered if her children would have to live through that. She sighed. "Can we sleep on it?"

"Of course," Dumbledore replied. "I might have guessed you'd be a bit tired. Perhaps it would be best if you stayed in the castle after dark. There are other things I shall need to discuss with you in the morning. Most of the Professors are still here for the summer- they'll join us at tomorrow's meeting- so I'm afraid you'll have to stay in the dormitories. Gryffindor Tower should suffice- the password is 'oddment.' I shall see you all in the morning."

*

Thanks go to Lyta Padfoot, Firebolt7, Dennis, Lilly Phoenix, Liza, Ginny, Lady of the Lillies, Hermione_Misty, alistaer, Hermione_77_, Fallen, tl and Amanda Mancini for reviewing, and to Zsenya for beta-reading.


	3. Wanderlore

The Lion and the Unicorn __

The Lion and the Unicorn

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter yet. Check back next week, though. Maybe I'll do _really_ well in the stock market.

Pronunciation guide: 'Anya' is pronounced something like as if the 'y' were a soft 'g'… like in the French pronunciation of 'Georges.'

Note for Chupacabra: This probably won't surprise you, seeing as I've told you all about my Shenanigans, but I'm actually using [http://wbt-2.iicm.edu/shenanigans/meaning.htm][1] for a source. (That'd be the Shenanigans homepage. g) The rest I'm making up. Anyway, on that page they use the word "Shee," not "Sidhe," and since there _is_ an Irish member of the band… I'm sure Annette wouldn't let Keith screw that up royally. J Plus, my computer doesn't like "Sidhe," but "Shee" is apparently OK.

__

And the band played 'Waltzing Matilda' 

And the old men still answer the call 

But year after year our number get fewer 

Someday no one will march there at all 

Chapter Three: Wanderlore

Anya awoke the next morning with a lot on her mind. First and foremost was Leon and his predicament. She had settled her doubts the night before; she would fulfill her duties as his guardian… as his mother… as best she could. There was no other option. 

The next thing was Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix. _Well, if I have to be in Scotland anyway…_ She sighed and threw off the bed sheets, knowing that she'd had her mind made up long before Dumbledore had asked her to decide. 

Padding past the bed Arabella had occupied, Anya headed for the bathroom for a shower. She still smelled somewhat strongly of dragon, which was hardly acceptable when keeping company with a headmaster and a werewolf, not to mention various (in)famous people.

As the hot water poured down on her, Anya's thoughts wandered further. Violent Shee reactions were third on the list of things to consider. Her surprise attack on Sirius the day before was a little conspicuous, as most wizards hadn't that kind of immediate power at their disposal. Even if they had, Shee magic was generally used for moving furniture and causing high jinks, _not_ pinning grown men to walls. It was no wonder she'd slept so late; not being a full Shee, that kind of magic took a lot out of her. 

She sighed to herself as she massaged shampoo into her hair. It wasn't like some people would _care_ if such feats were draining. All they would see was an extraordinarily powerful witch, a threat; one that had to be eliminated. She would have to be careful about power displays in the future. She couldn't leave Leon motherless again.

*

Charlie was obviously fighting to keep his eyes open during breakfast, but kept nodding off into his porridge. Anya watched him with a grin; she had seen the same at so many breakfasts, but it was still amusing. He was so exhausted he'd hardly noticed that he was eating porridge and not one of Jacques' spectacular omelets. Even then, though, her thoughts were elsewhere.

What more could Dumbledore possibly tell them? They knew everything; from Peter Pettigrew's betrayal up to the Triwizard Tournament. They knew of three unregistered Animagi. They knew of a girl in fourth year with an enormous burden to carry, another remnant of the scar that cursed the Boy Who Lived; knew the trials of three fifteen-year-olds who should certainly not have been in the situation they were in. Was there anything left?

Anya shook herself as she realized that even Charlie had finished his breakfast. Together, they stood and headed for the headmaster's office once again.

* 

"How bad is it?" Sirius asked at once. He looked slightly less haggard than he had the day before, and the leather pants were (mercifully) gone, but he still seemed rather edgy.

__

Not that I can blame him. Anya was, somewhat uncharacteristically, at least as nervous as he was. _Things are obviously about to go drastically wrong, and everyone thinks he's on the wrong side of the line already!_

Dumbledore rested his elbows lightly on the table. "Worse than even you think, I'm afraid, Sirius," he replied, looking very much like he didn't want to have to say what he did. "By now I'm sure all of you have heard at least some of the speculation floating around all of Europe and the Balkans."

The group nodded, Sirius and Lupin hesitatingly; the others with expressions of curiosity. Dumbledore continued, "What we know is this: Voldemort, through his misdeeds at the Triwizard Tournament, has risen again. We know that there have been suspicious and seemingly random events that could be seen as having Dark connections, never twice within sixty miles of each other, and never thrice in the same country. We have begun to see things which seem impossible: Shee killed in house fires, professional Quidditch players flying into mountainsides, respected wizarding families lost in Muggle disasters they should have been able to avoid. It all comes down to this." Dumbledore stopped here, sizing up each member of his 'team' in turn. "Have any of you ever heard the Wanderlore?" 

Slowly but surely, each one of them shook his or her head. Anya herself held back the one thing she had heard of the lore, from her father before he'd died.

"The Wanderlore," Dumbledore began, "tells of a strange folk from a strange land. Current speculation places their origin somewhere in central Asia, yet no one knows- in the past two thousand years, they've been thought to originate in Tanzania, Australia, Antarctica, South America and Iceland. They are known as Drifters to those who do indeed know of them; wandering from country to country without direction, searching for places they might wreak havoc. 

"No doubt all of you have heard of the Shee, a mischievous but friendly people that originate here, in our own isles. These Drifters are similar creatures, with similar strength, but malicious- any harm done to others would only do them good. The Shee, though closely related, are thought to be their only match- any one of them could theoretically dispose of a Drifter, but it would take a very talented wizard to do the same. Drifters are Dark, and will not stay in one place longer than they have to, much unlike their distant cousins. These seemingly impossible deeds are their workings. As I've said, all evil they do, create or aid only furthers their cause- the collapse of the world into a Dark anarchy. Even Muggles- especially Muggles- are unsafe. Drifters had a hand in three of their wars.

"The Drifters have not been known to ally themselves, ever, but prefer to work alone. Until now." Dumbledore waved his wand, and a notebook-sized piece of glass floated over to the desk. He tapped it once, and immediately colors began to swirl through it, until it portrayed a hologram of the Earth. "I have reason to believe, from various field agents, that the Drifters plan an alliance with Voldemort. As yet they haven't worked out any details, treaties or bargains. What we do know is that the negotiations were originally supposed to take place in-"

"Romania," Charlie finished, looking as if he'd just solved the last piece of an ancient puzzle. "Which is why you told me to look out for strangers. So why did you call us here?"

Dumbledore waved his wand at the country of Romania on his map, and it turned green. "Our source tells us that the meeting is set for the evening of July thirty-first," he said. "Now, here are the countries which registered above-average Dark activity in the past three months." South Africa turned orange, then Kenya, followed by Sudan and Egypt. Syria, Turkey, and Greece followed. "Bulgaria should have been next, by our guesses, since it's on the closest border to Romania." Instead, from Greece the highlighting countries skipped from Italy, through Liechtenstein, Switzerland, Germany, Luxembourg, and Belgium. Dumbledore sighed heavily. "Then, just two days ago, they struck home." 

Ireland, too, turned orange, and Anya's stomach sank to somewhere around her knees. 

Charlie spoke her fears while the rest of the group absorbed Dumbledore's news. "They're not only conspiring with Voldemort, but they're trying to wipe out the Shee."

"We think so," came Dumbledore's reply. "So the time has come. Have you made a decision?"

Anya and Charlie exchanged glances, then turned to Dumbledore. "I'm in," Charlie said, taking the unspoken cue to go first.

Dumbledore nodded, then handed Charlie a thin gold band from a chest on his desk. "A phoenix ring," he explained, gesturing to it. "It will give your hand a mild shock if you're needed, and when you Disapparate you'll be brought automatically to where you're needed." He looked at Anya, face graver than it had been. "And you, Miss Dickinson?"

To her surprise, Anya's voice was steady as she replied. "I'll do it."

*

"Leaving already?"

Anya whirled around, looking quite surprised. "Oh, it's you." She let out her breath in a rush. "Don't do that. It gives me the creeps."

Sirius smiled wanly. "Sorry. But you are leaving, aren't you." It wasn't a question anymore. 

She shrugged. "Well, now that you're not wearing those pants anymore, there's not much reason for me to stay." Hoisting her backpack higher on her shoulders, she continued heading for the door, presumably doing her best not to be weirded out by the presence of a (wrongly) convicted mass murderer. 

"At least someone likes them," Sirius replied, following her even though he could tell she wanted to be alone. "Remus told me I looked like a briefcase on steroids."

To his surprise, Anya laughed a little. The sound was harsh, though, as if she was preoccupied with something direr and more important. "If you don't like them, why do you wear them?"

"Long story," he said, noting with relief that at least she'd stopped trying to avoid him. The fewer people that wet their pants at the sight of him, the better. "A short summary involves looking for my old robes and a large amount of moths. My Muggle clothes were a little more… time-resistant. Of course, I left out the part about the red silk knickers."

Oh. Now she was staring at him. Well, that was to be expected. Couldn't be helped, in fact. Finally, Anya spoke. "You're even crazier than I thought."

"Was that a compliment?"

"Probably as close as you're going to get from me right now." Anya flopped down on the grass with a frustrated sigh. "Look, I'm sorry I'm so irritable. As you can imagine, I've had a stressful few days." Even as the words tumbled from her mouth, she apparently realized that that must have sounded incredibly invidious. She winced. "That was the wrong thing to say. I'm not one who should be complaining about a rough time right now-"

Sirius cut her off. "No, it's okay. I understand."

Anya shook her head at him. "Do you?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't?"

"My brother just died," she answered cryptically. "He and his wife, in a house fire. A _house fire_, Mr. Black. I've been pulled from a post studying dragons, which I rather enjoyed I might add, back to Ireland to take care of their… affairs, and now I've gotten mixed up in the Order of the Phoenix! In _two days_."

"Got you beat," Sirius said in a very dull voice. "Best friend and his wife died, killed by Voldemort. Other friend turned traitor and blamed me for it. Got loaded with a bunch of other murders I didn't commit, too. In _two days_. Oh, and then I went to Azkaban for twelve years, escaped by swimming across a channel, then lived a year and a half as a dog. Do I win in the reasons for self-pity contest?"

Anya scowled at him, then sighed and buried her face in her hands. "Sorry. I didn't mean to sound deprecating. I have a lot to think about, and most of it isn't pleasant."

Sirius held out his hand. "Welcome to the club."

She shook it, and they were silent for a while. Finally, Anya stood and brushed off her clothes. "I have to go," she said. "Arrangements to make, and the like. I'll be back, though. Don't brood or worry too much without me."

Sirius smiled humorlessly. "There are only two things to worry about."

Anya paused in mid-reach, her Portkey momentarily forgotten. "Either you are well or you are ill. If you are well, there is nothing to worry about. _Are_ you ill, Mr. Black? Other than mentally, I mean."

Sirius didn't answer her question directly. "But if you are ill, there are two things to worry about. Either you will get better-"

"Or you will die," Anya said, seemingly amazed to find someone else who knew the old Irish sayings. "In which case there are two things to worry about. Either you will go to heaven, or you will go to hell."

"If you go to heaven, then you have nothing to worry about."

"And if you go to hell-"

"You'll be too damn busy shaking hands with all your friends to worry."

Anya smiled. "It's nice to find someone who at least knows the Irish philosophy." She peered at him closely. "You, however, are not Irish."

"Guilty," Sirius admitted. "Grandfather on my mother's side. Everyone else in my family was Scottish."

"I suspected as much," Anya replied, purposely ignoring his use of the past tense, which was painful to think about. "Well, don't worry too much. We are all of us in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars."

"I just hope we can still see them in the future."

She now appeared troubled. "Lighten up a bit, Sirius. I've no desire to live at all if life will be as torturous as you make it seem."

__

Nor I, though that's a given. "Then go about your business as lightly as possible, Miss Dickinson, and should our paths cross again, I shall be all the… lightened up… for it."

*

The house was large, ornate, and somehow foreboding, the exact image of what a Ministry employee's house should look like. Anya stepped uncertainly up to the front door, straightening her robes unconsciously. _Now or never_.

She reached for the knocker, but before she could use it, a short, somewhat chubby woman threw it open and enveloped her in a hug. "Hello, darling! You must be Anya. Come in, come in." She sniffled loudly. "James told us so much about you."

"Er… thank you, Mrs. Johnson," Anya managed, trying to breathe. 

"Oh, no," the woman said. "I'm not Mrs. Johnson, dearie. I'm the just the Johnsons' housekeeper. I'll go get them, you just take a seat-" And the housekeeper bustled out again, leaving Anya alone in a room the likes of which she'd never seen before. 

It had a high ceiling and white marble walls with rich blue wall hangings, and all of the furniture was trimmed in white porcelain or silver. Anya was almost afraid to sit down for fear of disturbing the lovely upholstery. She put her bag on the floor and sat, doing her best to take up as little room as possible on the sofa.

Presently, she heard voices from the next room. "… I mean, she's his _sister_. Half-sister, anyway. He wouldn't have made her Leon's guardian if she were _evil_-"

"I know, Angelina," answered a startlingly familiar voice. Anya shook herself mentally. It couldn't _possibly _be- "I'm just sort of attached to the little troll, you know?"

There was a gurgling noise, and two perfectly mismatched teens entered the room. The first, tall, pretty and dark-skinned, carried a blue-clad bundle in her arms, while the second (somewhat short, befreckled and redheaded in comparison) was apparently admiring said bundle with wide blue eyes. 

"Hullo," the first said, shifting Leon to her hip and extending her hand. "You must be Miss Dickinson. I'm Angelina Johnson. That's Fred," she added, indicating the young man behind her with a jerk of her head.

"A Weasley, if I presume correctly?" Anya asked, trading Angelina's hand for his. 

"You do," Fred answered, pumping her hand up and down enthusiastically until Anya wondered if her fingers would fall off.

"Nana," Angelina called, "could you please bring the baby's things?" She turned back to Anya then. "You'll have to be careful with this one. He turned Fred's hair blue yesterday and we've only just got it to turn back. It must be the Shee blood in him." Her brown eyes seemed to soften. "I was sorry to hear about your brother. We used to go visit him a lot- he told the greatest stories…"

Anya tried to smile and accepted Leon from Angelina's arms. "Thank you." She gestured to her left, out the window, and asked, "Why did they restore the house? I thought it was totally destroyed."

Angelina shrugged. "None of the Muggle neighbors saw it burn down, and the Ministry hasn't released what happened to the Muggle government, so they couldn't issue a cleanup. They rebuilt the house last night instead."

"Oh," Anya replied, feeling a little dazed by the information. "Well, thank you for watching Leon. I really appreciate it."

Angelina beamed. "Oh, he was a perfect angel- most of the time, anyway. But watch out when you're changing his nappy. Oh, and he's afraid of cats."

Anya wrinkled her nose. "I don't blame him. I've never been particularly fond of cats myself."

Leon gurgled happily and reached out for Fred, who looked like he was having a difficult time restraining himself from gathering the sandy-haired baby in his arms and doing something silly and almost motherly with him.

"Won't you stay for tea?" Angelina asked somewhat awkwardly. 

Anya smiled inwardly- apparently the two of them were quite fond of little Leon and didn't want to let him out of their sight. "I'd love to, but I really must be going- I've got a hundred other places to be today-"

"Oh, we'll watch Leon!" Angelina interrupted quickly. "I mean, you don't want to take him to the funeral parlor or the reading of the will. You can just- leave him here with us. We don't mind."

"Are you sure?" Anya asked, untangling Leon's fingers from her hair. "He sounds like a handful."

"Very sure," Fred assured her, taking Leon out of her arms again. "In fact, take your time. I may be a while in corrupting your nephew."

"Okay," Anya answered, and before she knew it, Nana was escorting her to the door. _What a peculiar family. Not that I'm one to talk_. The voices continued as she walked over behind a bush from where she could Apparate.

"I told you she wasn't evil."

"Yes, rub it in, why don't you." There was a yelp, and a laugh from Angelina. "I didn't intend for that to be taken quite so literally."

"I'm not responsible for your intentions. And thank goodness."

Anya grinned and Disapparated.

*

Charlie awoke the next morning in his old bedroom at the Burrow, still completely exhausted. _I wonder if I'll ever sleep in again? _

First on his list of things to do that morning was finding a job. This, of course, was easier said than done, as he was somewhat inclined to be choosy in his line of work. Boring jobs were definitely not in the program.

The house was already a bustle of activity by the time Charlie made his way down to breakfast, grabbing the _Daily Prophet_ off of the table where Percy had left it and leafing through it distractedly. 

"Morning, Charlie," Ron said between yawns and bites of toast. He swallowed without chewing properly, then asked, "_Charlie_? What're you doing here?"

"Morning, Ron," he answered, pilfering a piece of his brother's toast. "Nice to see you, too." Charlie flipped to the classified section just as yet another brother entered the room. "Hullo, George. Where's Fred?"

George looked up from the stack of papers in his hands, apparently startled. "Oh, hi, Charlie. I thought you didn't have any vacation days left? Fred's at Angelina's."  
"He's _where_?" Molly asked, entering the kitchen from the living room.

"Um, he's upstairs. I'll go get him then, shall I?" And George bolted out of the room.

Charlie tried to hide his amusement behind the newspaper, but it escaped as a laugh when Fred chose that moment to step out of the fireplace.

Molly was livid. "FRED WEASLEY!" she yelled. "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?"

"Hullo, Mum!" Fred said cheerfully, trying a little too hard to be winning. "Charlie! My dear brother, marvelous to see you. Shouldn't you be studying dragons in Romania?"

"I quit," Charlie said shortly. "More important things to do. Pass the marmalade, would you, Ron?"

Poor George came running down the steps then, wearing a T-shirt of Fred's with a pair of wings monogrammed on the back. "'Lo, Mum. Sorry that I slept late."

Molly looked from one twin to another. "You two! Out, into the garden. I don't want to see a single weed or lawn gnome, do you hear me? Not one! OUT!" 

The twins scampered out the door and Charlie gave a dry chuckle. "As if one Fred wasn't enough."

"I'm just thankful Angelina can keep him in line. Speaking of Angelina," Molly continued, now bustling happily away in the kitchen, "Have you met-"

"Oh, no." Charlie banged his head off of the table. Well, whatever else, it was good to be home.

*

Ok, list of people to thank:

JK, Chupacabra, Kali ma, Thing1, Wicky, Jane, and everyone else (which isn't a lot of people, mind you) thank you for reviewing chapter two. Zsenya, thanks again for beta-reading. 

   [1]: http://wbt-2.iicm.edu/shenanigans/meaning.htm



	4. Extracurricular Activities

The Lion and the Unicorn __

The Lion and the Unicorn

Disclaimer: Everything still belongs to J. K. Rowling. Drat my luck.

And: Sirius looks like Oded Fehr. No, I'm not drooling. Yet.

__

Only you can understand

To save the Lore so old

As waters lost into the sand

Like feelings growing cold

Chapter Four: Extracurricular Activities

Once he'd escaped his mother, giving her quite a few pathetic excuses as to why he hadn't yet met his match, Charlie headed to his room to unpack his things. He'd gotten back to the Burrow fairly late the night before, a result of much chatter with the rest of the Order. Sirius and Remus were entertainment at its best; they told incredible stories of shenanigans and practical jokes that Fred and George had never even thought of. (When Remus could convince Sirius to quit moping, anyway.)

Absently, Charlie fingered the gold ring on his finger. It figured that Molly would have asked him what it meant. He grinned, recalling the outrageous story he'd told her. It was doubtful that she'd ever see dental floss or light bulbs the same way again.

Tossing a few things back into his rucksack, Charlie picked it off of the floor and headed back down to the kitchen to use the fireplace. He paused by the door at the top of the stairs- Ginny's- hearing noises. 

Curious for reasons he could not fathom (and the protective brother one that he could), Charlie knocked gently on the door. "Ginny? Are you awake?"

There was no answer. 

"Ginny?" Charlie called again, slightly worried now. "I'm coming in." He pushed open the door, not quite fully anticipating the pigsty that was his sister's room. It looked like a tornado had gone through it, decided it had taken a wrong turn, and gone back through it again. "Ouch," he said, tripping over a (moving) Care of Magical Creatures textbook. "Honestly, Gin, don't you ever clean in here?"

His sister didn't answer him. She was lying on her stomach, face buried in her pillow, and her body was shaking with little sobs. "He's back- he's gone, and it's my fault-"

Charlie paused. _Is she dreaming?_ But apparently she wasn't, because she sat up just then and regarded him with red eyes. "Charlie?" She sprang out of bed and wrapped her arms around him, squealing. "You came to visit! You've just saved my summer. Nobody around here is any _fun_ anymore- Fred and George are always working on Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes or else they're out with Katie and Angelina, and Ron spends all his time writing to Harry and Hermione- he fancies her, you know- and Percy is such a fanatic about work that it's-"

Charlie smiled to himself and let his brain start to filter her words. Apparently, she hadn't changed _too_ much since he'd seen her last. (This was not entirely true, though, he noticed ruefully; his little sister was indeed growing up.) "Hold it," he said, shaking his head. "What's up with _you_? Since when do you have such awful nightmares?"

"Oh," Ginny said, suddenly finding that her toes were very interesting. "It's nothing. Just- since the Triwizard Tournament, you know…" she trailed off.

Apparently she didn't realize she'd been talking in her sleep. Charlie wondered about that, but decided that if Ginny didn't know herself, it couldn't hurt her too much. "Oh," he said, ruffling her hair in an older brother-like way. "Well, try not to worry too much before we know what's going on, okay?" He cringed inwardly. _My, that was hypocritical._

Ginny gave him an odd look, as if she were reading his thoughts, but nodded slowly. "I'll try if you will."

"Then it's a deal," Charlie replied, and they shook on it. 

Walking back to the kitchen, Ginny seemed even more her old self, which was reassuring. "So where are we going?" she asked, not managing to quell the hopeful tone of her voice.

"We?" Charlie repeated, shaking his head. "Sorry, Ginny. I've got important-" He stopped at the crestfallen look on her face. "Come on, don't do this. I'll be back before dinner and I can catch up on everything you haven't told me already."

"You promise?"

"I promise. See you later, Gin." With a toss of Floo powder and a shout, he was gone.

Charlie wound up in Hogsmeade station, not too far from Hogwarts, deciding to walk from there rather than take a Portkey. It was a rather hot day, but it wasn't a sunny type of hot and the walking was not terribly difficult, seeing as he was used to running after dragons day-in and day-out. He had just barely reached the castle when the sky grew overcast and thunder boomed in the distance. _Seems we're in for a bit of rain_.

Professor Dumbledore, Arabella, Mundungus, Sirius and Remus were all waiting in the Great Hall. On such hot days, a meeting in the Headmaster's office would be far too hot and crowded for all of them, not to mention noisy because of the storm. "Anya didn't come back yesterday?" he asked curiously, noting her conspicuous absence. "That's-"

He didn't have time to say more, though, because Anya entered the room just then, pack on her shoulders and a book in her hands. Her nose was stuck in the book, and she just barely looked up as she said, "Sorry I'm late. It's one thing getting yourself ready to go somewhere; try it with a nine-month-old…" Without further ado, she turned her back to Charlie. 

They knew each other well enough that it didn't take words to communicate what she wanted him to do, and so Charlie lifted Leon gently out of the baby-carrier. Leon whined a bit and reached out for Anya, who accepted him with a soft smile and basic motherly instinct.

Sirius looked slightly incredulous. "This is the family business you were attending to?"

"Since seven o'clock this morning," Anya said seriously. "Apparently Leon has trouble sleeping past eight." She sighed. "Mind you, if I had nightmares like he must, I wouldn't sleep long, either."

"Well, now that you're here, we can get started," Dumbledore said. "Everyone, please be seated…" They were, and so began a third meeting, this one to establish what they would be doing to aid the cause.

"Obviously," he said, "I cannot send you on wild Grindylow chases at the merest hint of Dark activity, and I do not expect you to go on them. I understand that you have your own jobs, your own lives, to take care of. 

"One thing we do insist upon is the cell system. This group is just one part of a much larger whole. To avoid discovery- by the Ministry, by the Death Eaters, or indeed anyone- you will only know the people in your own group. I must ask you not to try to discover the other groups, for your own safety and theirs. Does anyone have a problem with or an objection to that?"

They shook their heads.

"Wonderful," Dumbledore said. "Now- next order of business is finding a base of operations for your particular group. We can't have the meetings here during the school year- admittance to Hogwarts is going to be severely restricted by professional Aurors to ensure student safety. We will have to find a new headquarters before school starts, so please keep your eyes open."

The group absorbed this, too, and so Dumbledore continued. "And while we're talking about school," he said, turning to Charlie, "I'm going to be short one Care of Magical Creatures teacher come September. I would be honored if you would fill in."

Charlie blanched. _A teacher? Me?_ Yet it made an odd kind of sense. He was good with animals and good with people, he was already working for the Headmaster anyway, and it would give him a position in Scotland where he could visit four of his siblings (and the two or three he considered honorary Weasleys). He didn't see a downside, and so answered, "The honor is mine, Professor."

"Splendid!" Dumbledore exclaimed, not half as somber as he'd been mere moments before. "Although, as a member of my staff, I must insist that you stop calling me 'professor.' It makes me feel so old and decrepit."

Charlie squirmed a bit. No doubt the Headmaster knew that almost everyone thought that he _was_ old and decrepit. "Er… I'll try."  
"So," Dumbledore went on, ignoring Leon's constant string of baby-babble. "Moving right along, I think I'll turn over the speaker's position to the lovely Mrs. Figg. Arabella, if you would kindly tell us what you've learned so far about the Drifters…"

Mrs. Figg- an old woman but a graceful one, thin but not frail, and with a sheet of perfect white hair- stood and began pacing. "I've known something was going on for about a week now," she began slowly, an intense look of concentration on her face. "Muggles can feel the Drifters when they're coming, although we can't, and they act strangely. I didn't know what it meant, but I did know that I'd have to be alert." She sighed. "Unfortunately, now that we do know what's going on, we can't find any more information on them in the library. I've written the Ministry for their records, but-"

There was an especially loud crash of thunder, and Leon whimpered in Anya's arms. "Shush!" she whispered. "It's only a little rain."

It wasn't, however, a little bit of rain, and neither was it only a storm. There was a flash of lightening, and, so suddenly that it nearly gave poor Mundungus a heart attack, Bill Weasley appeared in the Great Hall and promptly fell flat on his back, exhausted.

Mundungus was on his feet in a split second, brandishing his wand, and by the time he'd realized that Bill was no threat Arabella had coaxed him into sitting down again and drinking his tea. 

After Anya had performed a Drying spell on the rain-soaked Bill, he managed to sit up, breathing hard. "Headmaster," he said between gasps, "is there a little something you forgot to tell me about all-powerful wraiths that won't _die_?"

Mundungus and Dumbledore exchanged glances. "Sit down," the Headmaster said, removing his spectacles and massaging the bridge of his nose, somber once more. Bill moved to a chair. "What did you say about all-powerful wraiths?"

"They're not _wraiths_, per se," he answered slowly. "More like they're- I don't know- _dim_. I didn't see him until he was right in front of me-"

"Hold up, brother," Charlie said, trying to categorize the flow of information he was receiving. "How about starting at the beginning for those of us who are, shall we say, new to the operation?"

Bill gave his brother a look that clearly asked, 'What are you doing here?' but did not repeat the question aloud. Instead, he said, "Well, I was working on an ancient underground vault at Wiltshire for the goblins-"

Charlie couldn't even let him get through the first sentence. "Since when do you work in Great Britain?"

"I could ask you the same thing!" Bill exclaimed in semi-annoyance.

__

He's got a point. "Right," Charlie said. "Okay, continue. I won't interrupt anymore."

"I doubt that," Bill said, giving a weak grin. "Anyway, _like I was saying_, I was trying to break the curses on an ancient underground vault near Stonehenge. We were underground, so it was cold and dark, but all of a sudden it got a hell of a lot colder. Next thing I know, I'm lying flat on my back and there's something sitting on my chest. It grabbed me under my chin and I could hear it breathe in, and it sort of felt like what a Dementor might do to a person… only it wasn't my _soul_ that was leaving my body, it was my magic."

Sirius and Anya had gone very, very white, and even Leon was silent.

Bill continued, somewhat oblivious. "I grabbed my wand and cast an industrial strength Stunning spell, but nothing happened. I could feel that the magic left my wand, but it sort of… bounced off. Or was absorbed, or something. By this time, I could feel my magic growing weaker, and I knew I couldn't cast another spell." He drew a deep breath, "So I reached into my boot, grabbed my knife and- well…" Bill looked down at his hand, still clenched around something. He flicked open the blade and grimaced. It was covered in something that looked like a cross between blood and ichor. "I must've been running on adrenaline, because I picked up my wand and turned it into a Portkey right after- and here I am," Bill finished, looking up. "Now, would someone please tell me what's going on?"

"I'm afraid we can't do that, Bill," Dumbledore said, shaking his head and putting his glasses back on his nose. "We can only tell you what we know. Which, by the sounds of things, isn't even as much as you do."

"Oh, spectacular," Bill grumbled sarcastically. "Fill me in."

And so, having no other choice, they did.

About three-quarters of the way through the explanation, Arabella was interrupted by the arrival of a huge, official-looking owl with a heavy envelope clasped in his talons. He hooted once, dropped the package on the table, and waited patiently for her to sign the form and return it to him. When she had done so, he ruffled his feathers and flew off again.

"Ministry owls," Remus muttered under his breath, half-smiling and half-scowling as it disappeared from sight. "What does it say?"

Arabella didn't answer right away, flipping instead through the thin folder she'd been sent. "Not much that we don't know. Origin unknown… Dark answer to the Shee…" She stopped at one particular sheet, frowning slightly. "Almost nothing we don't already know. But here, take a look for yourself." She passed the folder to Dumbledore, who began to flip through it silently.

Deciding that rushing Dumbledore with the folder was the last thing he wanted to do, Charlie turned to Bill. "So why _are_ you here?" he asked.

Bill shrugged, looking somewhat uncomfortable. "I was at the Triwizard Tournament," he said slowly. "And I remember more than you do from the first war. I don't want things to get that bad again. I can't let them."

"So you requested a transfer?"

Bill nodded. "There wasn't much else I could do besides quit cold turkey, and I wasn't ready to do that. I asked Dumbledore what I could do before I left that night." His gaze wandered across the rest of the room's occupants. "I'm guessing this is your cell?"

"Yeah," Charlie said, straightening up a bit. "Is it safe to assume that Dumbledore already told you that Sirius Black is innocent?"

His brother nodded again. "He told us- our cell- the first time we met. That's him, then? With the kid?"

Startled, Charlie's eyes fell on Sirius, who did indeed have Leon by his chubby little fists. The baby, who was apparently almost ready to walk already at such a young age, was standing on the floor (or, more accurately, on Sirius' feet), albeit unsteadily, supported by Sirius' steady grip. He was every bit as happy and vocal as he had been since the beginning of the meeting, which Charlie figured was good. He had originally thought that Leon had a severe case of separation anxiety- his wail could have woken the dead once he was separated from Anya or someone else he was used to- but there had been no horror stories yet from his neighbors and he seemed quite content with Sirius.

"Yeah, that's him," Charlie said, smiling in spite of himself. _Who would have thought, a year ago, that a convicted mass murderer would be so good with children?_

"Funny," Bill said, "I always imagined he'd be-"

"More evil?"

"Well, I was going to say 'taller,' but yes, more evil fits in the blank."

Charlie grinned, about to reply, when Dumbledore cleared his throat. "It would appear, ladies and gentlemen, that we have a good deal more information than we planned for. Let us hope it's source is somewhat reliable."

What chatter there had been died out quickly. 

"First of all," he stated, "we have good news and bad news. The good news is that it has been confirmed that Drifters rarely, if ever, strike in the same place within a year-long period. This is useful information, especially when we're considering the location of a new base of operations for this cell. Bill, I'm afraid I must ask you to pretend you didn't hear that."

"Yes, sir," Bill agreed readily.

"The bad news," Dumbledore said, now looking incredibly tired, "is just this: not only do they have the power to absorb magic, Drifters cannot be cursed. One cannot use magic against them in this world in any way."

Silence fell once again, and reigned supreme until Sirius asked what they had all been thinking. 

"What do we do now?"

Thanks for reviewing chapter three go to: teal llama, VolleyballKrazy, Doctor Cornelius, Dolores (yes, that's a bit morbid- but it's Sirius' PoV, and he's just… like that), Firebolt7, Thing1 (What if I lied about my age? … You can thank my English teacher and _A Man For All Seasons_ for my knowledge of Thomas More), AngieJ (Wow… thank you _so_ much, that means a lot to me), R. J. Anderson, Kali ma, DreamSpinner, Melody (yes, Dumbledore's a bit off, I noticed myself. Still, he'd act differently around adults than he would around Harry & co.), Paperback Writer, Juliette, AVK and Jane. Eternal gratitude to Zsenya for beta-reading. 


	5. The Castle of Dromore

The Lion and the Unicorn __

The Lion and the Unicorn

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to Scholastic and J. K. Rowling.

And Sirius *still* looks like Oded Fehr. (Right, Miggie?)

This one's for Kali ma, for putting up with my obsessions, including X-Men, Oded Fehr, and the Shenanigans, and (I dare say) enjoying every minute of it.

_Dread spirits all of black water, Clan Owen's wild banshee _

Bring no ill wind to him nor us, my helpless babe and me 

Chapter Five: Castle of Dromore

"What do we do now?" Sirius' voice was laced with bitterness, hopelessness, and weariness. It was not a particularly heartening combination by any means. He let go of Leon's hands and instead picked him up and set him on his knee.

"If we can't use magic against Drifters, we shall have to use something else," Remus stated reasonably. "The fact of the matter is that Voldemort was not beaten because of any great skill with magic- think of it, a mere _child_ caused his downfall. He was beaten because, for the sake of the world, he had to be beaten."

"Agreed, but no Muggle could have defeated the Dark Lord," Anya pointed out, doing her best not to let on that she had known the no-magic rule. Besides, she consoled herself, she had thought it pure myth.

"Yes, but this is the opposite case," Remus argued. "The file doesn't state that Drifters are immortal, does it? And Bill just sent one to meet its maker, by his account, anyway. So if we can't kill them the wizard way, we shall just have to find some other means."

"Goody," Bill grumbled. "Why do I have the feeling this could get messy?"

Everyone ignored him. Apparently, moody Weasleys didn't have priority. "What would you suggest?" Charlie asked. The question wasn't directed to anyone in particular.

"Well, it's obvious, isn't it?" Anya asked, brow creasing. "No magic. That leaves Muggle weaponry. And yes, Mr. Weasley, it will get messy, but that's a given. I don't advise complaining now, as it's war we're at here. It certainly isn't going to get better soon."

The Great Hall was perfectly silent, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. What had been evident for a month had been stated in no uncertain terms for the first time, and it was no longer a question of _what_, but rather who and how.

"It seems we've got an agreement, then," Sirius said finally. "Which leaves the all-important question of who is going to Sicily."

None of the others seemed to make the logical connection. "Why?"

"Mafia corruption," Anya answered automatically. "Play our cards right and we have a perfect and practically endless supply of weaponry. Handguns, machine guns, knives, whatever. And you can't possibly be serious. Have you any _idea_ what those people are like? They'd just as soon kill you as sell you anything, and they'd end up with all of your money anyway."

"Yeah, well, I don't like it either, but do you have a better idea?"

Anya fumed in silence. _Better that no one go and live than send someone to get themselves killed._ The truth of the matter was, though, that she didn't _have_ a better idea.

The room remained soundless. Even Leon seemed to sense the tension in the room and refrained from uttering his happy nonsense syllables. 

"Damn," Sirius spat, rubbing his temples. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this. Moony, it looks like you and I are going to Italy."

That was certainly unexpected. "Why the two of you? Wouldn't it be better if someone went who could actually walk about freely?"

"My dear Anya, you have forgotten about Padfoot, and I'm sure that he can only be an asset to the journey. As for Remus here, well, as far as I know, he's the only one of us who is fluent in Italian. Kind of ironic, huh?"

"Enough, Sirius," Dumbledore said, putting up a hand to stop his acidic tirade. "You and Remus will go to Sicily for a few days, make the necessary connections, and return here as soon as possible. Mundungus, Arabella, if they're not back in four days, you are to follow them. Under no circumstances, Misters Weasley and Miss Dickinson, are you to interfere. Is that understood?"

There were three reluctant verses of, "Yes, Professor." 

And Anya almost smiled to herself, because even though they were grown and had graduated, she still felt like a naughty schoolchild when the headmaster scolded her, and his scoldings were every bit as effective as they had always been. This time, however, the band of delinquents was much less likely to call him nutters behind his back.

*

"I can't believe he's letting them do this," Anya exclaimed, packing up her copy of the Drifter information with a dark scowl on her face. Dumbledore had left the room, presumably to owl the rest of Bill's cell that he would be out of commission for a few days until his magic returned at full strength. "It's suicide, that's what it is. It's not like we can't find enough Muggle weaponry in London- oh, no, we've got to _import_ it from _Sicily_-"

"Anya." Charlie laid a hand on her shoulder and she felt the tension drain away. 

"I'm sorry, Charlie," she sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder for a minute. "I've just had a total lifestyle change in a very short period of time. I feel like I'm going to have a nervous breakdown any second. Being a single mother has put me a bit on-edge, but that's no excuse." _Oh, I've had _this_ conversation before. _Maybe_ that's a sign that I should let it go…Honestly, could I be more pathetic?_ "Forgive me?"

"Anya, you're my only friend in the entire country. What would I do without you?" Charlie grinned cheekily at her. "Besides, I'm used to your mood-swings by now. It's our associate Mr. Black I think you've offended."

__

Again? 

Indeed, Sirius was muttering to Remus with a darker-than-usual look on his face. He was probably mad because of her 'unhand my nephew, vile fiend' look and subsequent demand (granted, those weren't her _exact_ words). Remus, too, appeared to be in bad humor, and Anya thought it likely that he was angry with Sirius for his advertisement of Remus' Italian. The former pointedly sent a short but particularly nasty glare her way, which she caught immediately. Instead of returning it, however, she pasted a huge fake grin on her face and waved insolently.

Still glowering, only this time with the telltale glint of laughter in his eyes once more, Sirius resumed his conversation.

"He'll get over it," Anya said, picking Leon up off of the floor and handing him to Charlie to put in the carrier again. 

"Most likely," Charlie agreed, setting about the delicate business of making sure Leon got secured properly. "You know, it's a lot easier to get the kid _out_ of this thing than it is to put him in it-" There was the sound of a baby shoe sliding on the fabric. "Thanks, Sirius."

"No problem- anytime."

Anya watched his retreating back for a few seconds. Finally, her vocal cords would obey her commands. "How does he _do_ that?"

Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Sneak up on me like that. It's very disturbing."

He shrugged. "Would you believe me if I told you it comes with the territory?"

"Probably. It will come in useful in _Sicily_, at the very least." Anya scowled again, then decided to drop the subject entirely. "So, want to tour the house this afternoon? I still have some serious redecorating to do- Johanna, bless her, had awful taste- and you really aren't following, are you?" she finished, noting the confused look on his face.

"I thought the house burned down?" Charlie asked.

"Yes, but they reconstructed it- they didn't plan on releasing some sort of explanation to the Muggle public, and as there was only one witness I guess they thought it'd be easier just to rebuild it. Convenient for me, anyway, if a little painful." 

Charlie smiled. "Don't worry, we'll help you fill it with happier memories. Won't we, Leon?"

Leon buried his face somewhat shyly in Anya's hair.

Charlie's face fell a bit. "He still doesn't like me. I don't get it."

"You probably remind him of Fred," Anya said, chuckling. 

"He met Fred?"

Anya grinned. "Yes, and I'd tell you the story over lunch, if you'd give me an answer to my invitation."

"Oh, of course I'm coming. Don't be daft. I expect the complete tour, mind you…"

*

"The best part is, because of the hedge, I can Apparate in and out without Muggles getting suspicious. Or at least, I _could_, if there were any other houses around that had Muggles living in them to get suspicious. The only other house on the street is the Johnsons', and they're a wizarding family." Anya undid the ward on the inner gate and let Charlie through. "Welcome to the Dromore House."

Charlie looked up- up- up- and his eyes nearly fell out of his head. While it was certainly not _the_ castle of Dromore, a beautiful palace in Kerry, it was both extraordinarily large and somewhat ornate. It had two full floors, with three-story turrets at either end. "Wow," he managed. "A little much for a few people, don't you think? I suppose your brother was planning on having a large family."

Anya shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable, but continued walking up the path. "It was our father's, passed down through the family. James' mother inherited it when he died, and when she died, James took over." She sighed. "That was before he was married. He was barely out of school at the time."

"So you had just got the job in Romania?"

"Right. And the Shee, being clannish and inclined to stick to the same spot, didn't like that one bit, so Mum left the house and the rest to James." Anya unlocked the front door and let Charlie in. "Watch your step."

Walking around the luggage that was still stacked haphazardly in the front hall, Charlie took another good look around. "You're right," he said finally. "A little redecorating does seem to be in order."

Anya elbowed him in the stomach. "Next time, just believe me when I tell you-"

There was the sound of shrieking from the open window. Anya and Charlie exchanged glances. "Well, now I know how Leon met Fred." Anya smiled as Charlie stuck his head out the window and yelled, "Oi! Fred! Angelina! Keep it down, will you?"

The shrieking stopped, and after a moment two faces appeared in the window. "Hey, Anya, who's your friend? Why does he sound like my brother? And how's he know my-" Fred stopped. "Hello, Charlie."

"Hi, Fred. Hello, Angelina."

"Hi."

"Care to join us for lunch?" Anya asked, finally managing to sling the baby carrier off of her shoulders without assistance.

"Oh, no thank you," answered Fred. "We'll leave you to enjoy your, um, lunch, did you call it? Alone."

"Fred!" Angelina laughed, smacking him playfully. "You're awful, honestly."

"Yes, I know. Well, goodbye, Charlie, Anya, Leon. We've got our own lunch to enjoy, if you'll excuse us-"

Charlie laughed and shut the window. "Lady and gentleman, my brother, Fred Weasley."

"Are all you Weasleys that bad?" Anya asked him, making her way to the somewhat messy kitchen.

"No," Charlie answered dolefully, as if it were the bane of his existence. "Percy has never broken a single rule in his life and probably wouldn't even have understood what Fred was trying to insinuate. Ron is just as bad as Fred and George, and Ginny's too young yet to tell. I have high hopes, though."

"Sometimes I think you're as crazy as I am," Anya said, shaking her head. "Here, hold Leon for a minute, will you?" She took her wand out from her sleeve and muttered a quick clean-up spell. "So what am I making for lunch?"

*

"What does the page you're looking at say?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," Anya replied, shifting the almost-asleep Leon to her other arm. "Drifters bad, killing hard, like to wander, blah blah blah." She flipped forward a few pages. "And the don't-return-to-the-scene-of-the-crime rule, restated fifty thousand times. Want to work on something else?"

"Have you thought of using Dromore House as a base of operations?" Charlie asked.

Anya looked up. "That's a good idea. At the very least it'll make the place feel more lived-in." _And we'll be safe for a year, at least from the Drifters._ "Do you want to owl Dumbledore or shall I?"

Charlie checked his watch. "Actually, I have to be going. I promised Ginny I'd be home to talk to her." He smiled apologetically as he shuffled the papers together and leaned over to give Anya a peck on the cheek. "Tell you what, though- lunch was at your place; how about dinner chez Weasley?"

She laughed. "Are you ever going to get your own place?"

He shrugged. "Not much point, seeing as I'm going to be living at Hogwarts for ten months of the year. I might see about getting a flat in Hogsmeade, though, for school vacations and such."

"Slacker."

"Yes, I know. You do realize, though, that you haven't given me an answer yet?"

"Sorry," Anya smiled, shifting Leon once again and grimacing as he whined. "I don't want to impose on your mother, though- I'm sure she's very busy."

Charlie snorted. "Are you kidding? She'd go crazy if she didn't have so much to do. We'd end up with an extra member in our cell. Besides, it's a great chance to show off Leon… I can guarantee that Mum loves him already."

"Oh, all right," Anya conceded. "But only because I'm too tired to argue."

"Are not."

"Am too."

"See?"

"I meant to do that."

*

When the three of them appeared in the fireplace at The Burrow, there was something of a commotion. It first appeared in the form of a slight, redheaded rocket that plowed into Charlie at roughly the speed of light. 

"Charlie! You're home already. Mum! Charlie's here! And you brought a friend. Hi, I'm Ginny. You must be Anya. I know because Charlie doesn't have any other girl friends. Isn't that pathetic? Tell him he needs to get a life." She said this all very fast. 

"Hello," Anya said, stepping out of the fireplace behind Charlie with a slight smile on her lips. "Yes, I'm Anya, and yes, Charlie is pathetic, but don't tell your mum I said that." She removed the Floo-safe baby blanket from around Leon's face. "This is Leon, by the way. He'd say hello, but I'm afraid he's a bit shy."

"Oh!" Ginny squealed. "He's so cute. Can I hold him?"

Anya laid him in her arms. The minute she was relieved of her burden, she was swept up into a bone-crushing hug. Recognizing streaks of gray in the long, dark red hair, Anya assumed that her assailant was Charlie's mother. "Hello, Mrs. Weasley," she managed to gasp out.

"Anya, dear, you really must call me Molly," Mrs. Weasley said. "I haven't seen you for ages! You look well." She chanced a glance at Ginny and Charlie, who seemed quite involved with Leon. "And is that-"

Anya nodded. "That's him."

Molly softened a bit. "Well, come in for dinner. We've made Charlie's favorite, and there's plenty to go around-"

__

I don't doubt it. And even though it was kind of ironic, she had to smile when she heard Ginny's whispered question and Charlie's somewhat startled reaction.

"Is he yours?"

*

Thanks this chapter go to: Rina, Miggie, Chupacabra, Juliette, Melody, Firebolt7 (AHTMF is on a break right now… Charliefic takes precedence), SilverAngel, Trinity Day (Bill used a Portkey to get into Hogwarts), MoonSerpent, Doctor Cornelius, AVK, Kali ma, and Cali for reviewing, and as always to Zsenya for beta-reading, even though she has a life. 


	6. Bella Italia

The Lion and the Unicorn __

The Lion and the Unicorn

Summary: Skipping forward a bit, Anya and Charlie worry like good "cell"-mates, Sirius and Remus get back from Italia, oh, and there's a problem…

Note: Going to try for a little Gaelic this time around- _Maith dom mo chuid Gaeilge bhriste_. And it didn't end up much more than 20 kilobytes anyway, although I thought it would. Maybe next time? g

__

Look around the mountains in the mud and rain  
You'll see the scattered crosses, there's some that have no name  
Heartbreak and toil and suffering gone   
The boys beneath them slumber on  
They are the D-Day Dodgers who'll stay in Italy

Chapter Six: Bella Italia

"You don't have to be so pigheaded about it," Remus insisted crossly. "I said I'd go. What more do you want?"

"I want you to stop sulking," Sirius shot back. "I know you don't want to go back there and I respect that, but we all have to do things we don't want to do." He closed his eyes against the memories that brought up. _'Let it go,' he told me. Why can't he take his own advice?_

"Easy for you to say- your family wasn't part of the-"

There was a slight draught in the room and Remus paused in his tirade, looking pensive. Anya peeked her head round the door. "Am I interrupting something important?"

Sirius was about to answer in the affirmative, but Remus shook his head. "Nothing we can't finish later."

"Good," she answered, entering the room fully. "Dumbledore sent me to tell you that you're to leave as soon as possible. Oh, and this just arrived via owl post." Anya unfolded something long and silvery.

Remus stiffened visibly, probably remembering the circumstances he'd last seen it. Sirius, who had known of the cloak's arrival beforehand, accepted it with a well-masked expression of somewhat painful nostalgia. "Thanks," he said awkwardly, packing it into his magically expanded duffel-bag. "Well, that's the last of it."

Anya nodded. She seemed to know how he felt about this 'mission' and probably wouldn't bring it up again. She definitely didn't like it in the least, but as Sirius had learned those past few days, Anya Dickinson was as stubborn as he was when it came to things that had to be done. "Good luck," she said at length, and turned and walked out the door.

Sirius and Remus left for Sicily via Portkey two hours later.

*

Dumbledore folded his glasses on the table. "The thirty-first of July," he said finally, regarding two of his senior officers with a somewhat tired look. 

The other man in the room nodded his head sharply, feeling at least as tired as the headmaster looked. "So I've been told. It's not much of a stretch; it's an important date in the master's book. Potter's birthday. What better day for a major power plan?" _Yes, and all the preparations shall be made by then, and it will be far too late to stop any plans the master might have concerning those treacherous wraiths._

Arabella Figg shook her head. "It's so soon- we'll never be ready to stop it in time. Yet we can't let it happen at all- things are dark enough as it is. But maybe if we laid some sort of other trap- one that didn't involve us being present…"

"Where is this summit supposed to take place?" Fletcher asked. "We could see about setting something up."

Severus regarded him coldly. "The Dark Ones can't wreak mischief the same place twice. Dark followers have no such laws." He waved his wand at the sheet of glass on the table and a hologram appeared. "A Muggle graveyard," he said without interest. "The one where Riddle's father is buried. A remote location, isolated even from the village it serves as a burial ground for." His lips pursed. "The Muggles have no desire to visit their dead, it seems, since the events of last year."

Fletcher nodded. "And who can blame them, after what's happened?" He tapped his wand on the table nervously. "So what are we going to do about it?"

Both Arabella and Dumbledore shook their heads. "I don't know."

*

"I don't suppose I'd be helping matters if I said I had a bad feeling about this?" 

Anya shook her head absently. "I feel the same way. They've only been gone for two days, but…"

Leon voiced his protest about not being fed promptly and Anya resumed her vain attempts to get applesauce into his mouth.

"Remus really didn't want to go," Charlie mused. "I don't blame him, but I do wonder."

"About a good many more things than actually concern you. I'm sure Remus had a good reason not to go, and we should leave it at that." Anya sighed, glancing toward the wall calendar. "The full moon is in four days."

"Arabella and Mundungus will be gone in two," Charlie reminded her, still pouring over the same Care of Magical Creatures text. "But give them some credit- they have experience in the field, and they're both powerful enough wizards… besides, Remus and Sirius could be back five minutes from now. Or it could be five minutes before Mundungus and Arabella leave."

Anya smiled dryly to herself. "Tell me then, O Patient Fountain of All Wisdom, why have _you_ been stretched tighter than the skin of a bongo drum these last two days?"

"Harry Potter," Charlie answered simply. "Ron wants to have him over for the rest of the summer, but Dumbledore won't let him go anywhere until sufficient guard is set up, and we don't have that at The Burrow."

"I thought you had two entire companies of gnomes?"

"Yes, the lawn type," Charlie answered with a bit of a smile. "Certainly not like the fancy guards you've got set up here."

Anya had not been idle during her teammates' absence- at the front door (indeed, at every door) stood two feisty guard gnomes with spears who would only allow those who knew the password to enter. Otherwise the door would seal shut until someone told it the password. Not only that, but the gnomes' spears would fuse to the legs of the unsuspecting visitor. Anya had tried it on Charlie; he hadn't been amused.

She shrugged. "Can't be too careful, especially when, if a pact _is_ made between Death Eaters and Drifters, we could be attacked at any moment." She stopped. "I'm too young to be paranoid."

"Nonsense," Charlie said. "With paranoia, you can never start too young. Take my brother Percy, for example-"

Anya had to giggle, recalling how, at one Weasley dinner, Percy had campaigned against the dangers of Tooth-flossing Stringmints. "Funny how he can be so blind to other, significant dangers."

Charlie sighed. "Don't remind me. Dad is about at the end of his rope where Percy is concerned. It frustrates him to know that one of his own sons is a devout follower of that incompetent, feather-brained-"

"Charlie. We've had this conversation before."

"Right," he answered, visibly tense. "I just-"

"I know," Anya said gently, laying a comforting hand on his arm. "But try to relax, okay? There's no sense in both of us being paranoid."

"I'm not-" Charlie was about to protest when they heard a loud crash coming from the sitting room.

"Save it," Anya told him as he rushed to the doorway. She snatched Leon out of his high chair and followed close behind him. "Are they back?" she asked, trying to look around him.

Charlie swore under his breath. "Yes," he answered, fingering his wand.

Deciding that she had to see for herself, Anya stepped past him into the sitting room and almost dropped Leon in shock. "Get Madam Pomfrey or Arabella," she commanded him. "Now." She put Leon in his arms as well. "Go!"

Sirius Black had just appeared in her living room. In his arms was an unconscious and bleeding Remus Lupin.

*

Anya wasted no time in telling Sirius what to do. "Towels and rags in the closet down that hallway. _Mobilicorpus._"

By the time he got back, Anya had Remus stretched out on a cot which hadn't been there before. "What happened?" she asked, peeling off Remus' blood-soaked shirt.

"Gangsters," Sirius answered, sterilizing the towels with a spell. He felt so useless- his friend was gong to die right in front of him- "What should I do?"

"Go into a _bit_ more detail," Anya answered, cursing softly as she saw the wound. "Aine! Didn't he sense them coming? And shouldn't he be somewhat more immune-?"

"Wizard Mafia," Sirius corrected himself. "Cursed silver knife. Which explains the burn marks around the- oh, my God." A wave of nausea swept over him as Anya passed her wand over Remus' chest and all of the blood coalesced into one thick puddle, which she wiped up with one of the towels. The wound laid bare was revealed to be worse than Sirius had thought- deep, wide, and far too close to the heart.

"Unless you know some really good First Aid Charms, I suggest you sit down somewhere, Sirius," Anya told him, sounding a little strange as she moved her hands over the wound again. 

Sirius didn't budge. _I knew the charm for this. I did. I do. What is it?_ "I can't-"

"Go, Sirius," Anya ground out, pressing the towel against Remus' chest. She mumbled something Sirius couldn't hear under her breath. 

"I can't just-"

The chanting grew louder and it became apparent that Anya was not paying him any mind whatsoever. "Beannacht Ahine, bligh mé a cnáigh-"

Sirius knew a little Gaelic, but he had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. It was all he could do to watch, as his friend's breathing grew shallower and shallower. _He is not going to die. He is _not_ going- Why can't I remember that bloody charm?_

Something thudded loudly into the fireplace and Charlie Weasley stumbled out again, followed closely by Arabella Figg. "Knife wound," Anya said without looking up. "Silver; poisoned with some sort of curse. I can't figure out what it is, and he's already lost a lot of blood-" Even as she finished her sentence, she was moving away from Remus, letting Arabella do her work. 

Sirius was just beginning to feel like he was watching a Quidditch match without registering any of the important plays when Charlie approached him, balancing Leon against his side. "He's going to be alright," Sirius said, not sure if he were saying it to assure himself or if it were a question. 

"If Arabella and Anya can't help him, no one can," Charlie said heavily. "Mundungus broke his leg spying on Severus Snape while he was round the Whomping Willow yesterday and she mended it as quickly as Madam Pomfrey ever could." He watched the two witches at work for a moment. "I don't know how she is with curse wounds, though."

Sirius could only nod. _This is your own fault, you know. Yes, you brought this on yourself. _Who had dragged Remus, practically kicking and screaming, down to Sicily to buy Muggle weapons? He had. Who had insisted on going on that little 'tour' to see if they could scout out any Dark activity? He had. And who had gotten stabbed? Remus, because Sirius had been wearing the cloak at the time. _Stupid, foolish-_

"This is for your own good, Sirius," Charlie said, shaking his head. He pulled out his wand. "_Stupefy._"

*

"Was that really necessary, Charlie?"

He shrugged, levitating Sirius a few feet off the floor. "Better than having him conscious but in shock. Point me to a bedroom?"

Anya gestured down the west wing. "Pick any room down there… there's no point in bringing him upstairs, I think. He'll be lost when he wakes up."

"You've forgotten about his Animagus senses," Charlie said, but followed her directions to a room down the corridor. He let Sirius' body drop onto the bed and then, shifting Leon (who was half-asleep) in his arms, he crossed the hallway to lay him down for a nap. 

"That should take care of the curse, then," Arabella was saying as he reentered the sitting room. "It looks like he might have a concussion, though- he must have hit his head on something. We'll have to wake him up as soon as we can. I'll need your help for that."

"Just _Enervate_?" Anya asked, taking her wand out from her sleeve again.

"Yes. On three, now. One… two…"

Charlie watched as the werewolf's form stirred a bit. "Merlin… Sirius, what have you done this time?" he groaned, trying to put a hand over his eyes. Apparently he didn't have the strength to do so, because his arm flopped back at his side. "Okay. You're not Sirius," he mumbled. "Where is Sirius and what the hell happened to me?"

"Easy, Remus," Anya said soothingly. "Do you know where you are?"

The werewolf squinted at the ceiling, then moved his head a bit. Sniffing the air, he said, "Dromore House again, I guess. It's cold in here." His body went relatively limp. "I think I'll just- take a nap-"

"No, Remus," Arabella insisted. "You have to stay awake. You're concussed. You've also lost a lot of blood, which means you're staying here for a while. I don't want you out of bed for the next three days. Do you understand me?"

"Bed," Remus repeated slowly. "Three days. Sleep."

"Not now. _Evigilo_. You can rest after we make sure you're okay. Now, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Four," Remus said, slightly livelier than he'd been a few seconds before.

"Birthday?" Arabella queried, checking his pupil dilation.

"June third," Remus answered. "Do I have to say the year?"

"Are you implying that you're old? Because that would make me positively ancient. What's your full name?"

"Remus Johannes Lupin."

"Remus…"

"Remus Johannes Lupin, the Third," he said sulkily. "I'm so _glad_ you remember that. It was rather cruel of you to make me write it on my Potions essays, though."

"But it's such a nice name," Arabella protested, letting a weary smile cross her face now that it seemed sure that Remus could recover. "Now that we're done the test- did you get what you were sent for?"

"In a shrunken trunk in Sirius' robe pocket," Remus answered. "Couple big guns, Sirius says they're called machine guns or some such thing. Looked kind of old-fashioned, he said. Some nasty-looking knives. Handguns, some of those little egg things you pull the pin and throw. I think that's about it."

"It'll do," Anya assured him, patting his hand. "We should let him rest now. We can check up on him again in the morning- or later this evening, as the case may be." She had just checked the time, surprised to find that it wasn't yet time for supper. "I don't suppose you'd be interested in eating anything right about now, Arabella?"

"Not now, no," Arabella admitted. "Well, I'll take Remus to a room- the one beside Sirius'?" Anya nodded. "Wonderful. And then we can have a nice chat about what on earth we are going to do with his friend." She shook her head. "He blames himself, you know."

Anya snorted. "Anyone would."

"Yes, but he could do nothing about it. And I fear that the interlude with the Wizard Mafia was not a totally unplanned one on their part. But I'll tell you about that when I'm done with this one, shall I? _Mobilicorpus_."

"Now then," Arabella began, returning to the room and lowering herself slowly into a chair. "This is something of a strange tale, child, and one that requires more than a little guesswork." She pulled a battered old book out of the rucksack she'd appeared with. "The first clue we got was the burning of this very house," she said slowly, now flipping through the pages. Somewhere near the back of the book she stopped, skimmed the page she was on, and nodded to herself.

"But we know the purpose for that- the Drifters want to wipe out the Shee," Anya said, confused. "Hence the burning." 

"Not quite," Arabella responded cryptically. She handed Anya the book. "The purpose for _this_ burning, at least, was the acquisition of a crucial ingredient." 

"Shee ashes?" Anya asked, reading from the book. Her stomach twanged unpleasantly and she swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. _My brother- they used my brother's _ashes_ in a _potion_- _

"Indeed," Arabella replied, taking the book again and flipping away from the general ingredients page. "After that, there were other clues- Mr. Weasley meeting a Drifter under Stonehenge, for instance. Or the fact that someone took the risk of stripping some of the bark off of the Whomping Willow. At the very least, I should have seen this coming." She tapped her finger against the page and Anya leaned over to read it. 

"They used my brother's remains in a Strengthening Potion?" she asked incredulously. _Of all the disgusting, dirty things to do… _"That doesn't sound like an ordinary Strengthening Potion to me." 

"No," Arabella said. "It's highly illegal and very powerful, for good reason. It requires not only Shee ashes, Whomping Willow bark, and a collection of various mosses from a place of great magical significance- but the heart and bones of a fully grown werewolf." 

The sick sensation in Anya's stomach increased and her insides twisted; her face became a mask of grotesque disgust. "_Remus'_ heart and bones. And since they don't have access to him anymore-" 

"They've gone after another by now, I'm sure," Arabella said softly. "It's probably too late." 

"But from what Dumbledore said, Voldemort is already back at full power." _Too late either way._

"I do not think," Arabella confided, "that this Strengthening Potion was for him." 

* 

Sirius awoke in a room he had never seen before. It was dark, and quiet, and altogether warm and comfortable. At the end of the bed he was lying on there was a dark mahogany wardrobe that looked to be several decades old. Hanging beside it on the wall was a tapestry hand-embroidered with a rearing lion; the words below it read _Cead Mille Failte_. 

__

Back at Dromore House, I suppose, he thought, sitting up slowly. Something poked into his side and he realized that his robes were twisted about him in a most uncomfortable manner and that there was a small case still in his pocket from the journey. 

__

Italy. Where's Remus? He swung his feet off of the bed and stood up, intending to find his friend, but the blood rushed from his head. In an effort to still the room's spinning, he leaned heavily on what he thought was a high, peculiarly shaped black table. He found, upon inspection of the mystery piece of furniture, that it was an old piano, possibly out of tune, and somewhat out of place as well. He did remember that Anya had been doing some serious redecorating, though, and its placement was not likely to be permanent. 

Sirius sat down on the bench, running his fingers over the ivory keys. His curiosity got the better of him, and he curled his fingers gently and pressed down, surprised at the solid, harmonious notes that came out. Apparently it wasn't out of tune after all. He tapped out a simple melody, and the spell he seemed to have been under was broken. Remus again took precedence in his mind, and he set off in the dark house to find him. 

* 

"Sirius? Good, you're awake. I don't suppose I could interest you in some lasagna?" 

He turned, startled both by the tone and by the offer, and his stomach growled. "Where's Remus?" 

"Resting," Anya answered tiredly. "He'll be fine, provided he doesn't do too much for the next few days. Recovering from this just before the full moon is the best thing for him- the only thing, if we ever want him back at full strength." 

Sirius winced inwardly. He had almost forgotten about the transformation his friend would have to endure. The cursed wound would only make the whole process more complicated. "Oh." Not feeling comfortable discussing the situation further, he switched the topic back to Anya's original question. "I'll pass on dinner. I've had quite enough Italian food." 

"So I imagine," Anya replied sympathetically. "You probably wouldn't want any, anyway. Charlie's cooking is, er, questionable."

Sirius snorted. "Does Charlie's cooking end up resembling something that has been sitting at the bottom of a trash heap?"

Anya smiled a bit. "It's not quite that bad, but close."

"Well," Sirius said with a shake of his head, "then it can't possibly be any worse than Remus'." _Not that Remus will be cooking for a while… that, at least, is a blessing._

"And here I was wondering why you were so skinny," she joked. "Everything is much clearer now- it's not that you've been on the run for a year, it's just that you can't eat while you're staying with Remus! And of course you would never think of cooking for yourself-"

"On the contrary," Sirius said. "I'm not too bad when it comes to making food. There are just too many windows in Moony's kitchen."

"And neither of you knows a good enough One-way Charm?"

Sirius sighed. "To tell you the absolute truth, I'm not living with Remus anyway. It's too risky."

She looked at him incredulously. "So you're staying at _Hogwarts_? There's no reason for you to complain about food, then." 

They both paused at a slight noise from down the west wing. "I'll get him," Sirius said, not quite sure why he had taken such a liking to the young lad. It was perhaps a little unnatural, but it reminded him of the life he was denied… and that he had a second chance at it, or could have if he played his cards right. Leon was a baby, completely removed from the worries and prejudices that adults inevitably develop. He trusted although there was nothing to base trust upon and loved without condition, and if there was one thing that Sirius needed, that was it. Add on top of that the fact that he still felt guilty for not being there for Harry while he was growing up, and it was fairly obvious why Sirius adored Leon so much.

Of course, he would never admit any of those reasons to anyone, not even to himself, so he contented himself with pretending that he didn't know.

Holding the fussing child in his arms, Sirius closed his eyes and resolved that this war would not ruin the lives of any more children. Not if he could help it.

*

Thanks to: Zsenya, Tabbycat2000, Miggie (Oh dear; that should not be! I shall have to rectify that situation), Lillian Malfoy, Rina, Madhuri, DreamSpinner, Juliette (sorry about the wait and the length this time around… they're related), Firebolt7, Chupacabra (I can't seem to get rid of that… suggestions?), Melody (Anya and Sirius are getting over their differences- they probably won't fight _too_ much more, as they have to work together and everything), Amanda "Scary Girl" Mancini, Koisk, AVK (consider Anya integrated… lol), Lyta Padfoot, Thing1 (yes, send me the lyrics! *Send* them to me. Imperio. Oh, and have fun in Oz), R. J. Anderson, Maharani, snuffles, Kali ma (you think I'm specky! *glows with pride*), Mina and Flourish.


	7. Out With Scabbard

The Lion and the Unicorn __

The Lion and the Unicorn

Disclaimer: It all belongs to J. K. Rowling.

Summary: Things're getting sticky. The summit is approaching rapidly, Harry makes his debut, tenants at Dromore House, visits, oh, and things get _really_ sticky. Ginny and Charlie make more appearances than they have been.

Note: Thank you to everyone who reviewed; I can't get on fanfiction.net right now to name you all personally because it's acting up… gaaah… OI! Kali ma! Recognize the lyrics? g

__

See the swords of Glen Imayle,   
Flashing o´er the English Pale.   
See all the children of the Gael,   
Beneath O´Byrne´s banners.   
Rooster of the fighting stock,   
Would you let a Saxon cock   
Crow out upon an Irish rock?   
Fly up and teach him manners. 

Chapter Seven: Out With Scabbard

Harry awoke from the third nightmare he'd had in as many hours completely exhausted and covered in sweat. In truth he had not had a decent night's sleep since early June, and it was beginning to show in his face. Dark circles had appeared under his tan and his eyes had lost some of their luster; he had lost weight and he hadn't had a good laugh in months. 

Harry wasn't thinking about himself, though. The nightmare had not been of the sort where he was mocked, and he wasn't bothered by the fact that it appeared he'd never have a good night's sleep ever again. He had not even considered such things yet. Harry's dreams were far more horrible than both of those things combined.

This particular night, the dream had focused mainly on the events of one night a few months ago. During the Triwizard Tournament in which he had participated, Harry had witnessed the murder of a fellow student, Cedric Diggory. It had been a horrible death, and sudden; nearly dismissive. It was almost beyond his comprehension that someone could kill so freely. And he had spent weeks reliving it.

The dream started out as if he'd never experienced the whole thing before. He felt nervous, certainly, but not the degree of apprehension he would have felt had he known what was going to happen. He went through every action exactly as he had actually done it and changed nothing. He and Cedric took the Cup together just as they had in real life. Wormtail killed Cedric without ceremony. And then things started going awry.

Horrible things happened to Cedric's body. It seemed to decompose before Harry's disbelieving eyes. Then the spirits of Harry's dead parents appeared, scolding him for letting his friend die. Failing him, and thus failing them. 

Then Voldemort turned the Cruciatus Curse on him and he could not think about Cedric or his parents any longer. His body was on fire; he was being stabbed, shot, and boiled in hot tar; his insides were trying to squeeze out through his pores-

And then it stopped, and Voldemort uttered, "_Avada Kedavra_." 

And it was over.

Except for Harry it was never really over. He lie there in his bed, still breathing hard, eyes still squeezed shut tight against the horrible reality of life. _It's not your fault_, he tried to convince himself. _Nobody thinks it's your fault. _

But Harry couldn't think of a reason why it _wouldn't _be his fault. It was his fault that Wormtail had gotten away when they'd caught him, because he hadn't been paying attention. And so it was his fault that Voldemort had gained power again, because Wormtail had aided him. What else could be concluded than it was, in fact, his fault?

A loud thud and a soft hoot brought him momentarily out of his jumbled thoughts. Forgoing his glasses, Harry stood and made his way over to the window by rote. He could just barely see the outline of a bird in the moonlight (it was almost full, he knew from his Astronomy lessons- he couldn't make out more than a blur). The owl was quite large- he hoped it would fit through his window- and a breed he hadn't seen before, unless his eyes deceived him. He groped for the his glasses, but first encountered the flashlight on the bedside table - it was a necessity if he wanted to do his homework while staying with the Dursleys - and switched it on so that he could see the owl more clearly. 

His eyes hadn't deceived him. The owl was bright green.

Harry shone the beam over to the bedside, spotted his glasses, and perched them on his nose. Now completely distracted from the self-pity that was common by night yet relatively rare by day (except when he was tending to Petunia's horrible begonias), Harry removed the package and letter from its leg and began to read.

__

Dear Harry,

Thanks very much for lending us the cloak. It came in very handy, but it's a long story and something that definitely shouldn't be discussed via owl post.

Which is why we're inviting you to stay with us for the remainder of the summer. Dumbledore has already given his permission. As long as you don't mind a lot of other houseguests, you're quite welcome to a room. We've booked you a bed on the Knight Bus. It will pick you up Sunday at five o'clock.

Harry was astounded. More than half of the summer was left ahead of him, and he was already going to escape them! To live with Sirius, no less, which was something he'd rarely entertained notions of after Sirius had been forced into hiding. He went back to the letter only to find that there were only two signatures and a post-script.

__

P.S. The owl's name is Mada Dymphna; 'Green' for short. (We don't get it, either.) Think she's a bit strange, do you? Wait 'til you meet her owner…

Harry snickered in the semi-darkness. _Leave it to Sirius to come up with something that ridiculous. _He opened Hedwig's cage. It was empty- she was keeping company with Pigwidgeon at The Burrow- and Green waddled inside with a funny sort of two-step. He wondered if 'Green' had been that way before Sirius arrived at… wherever it was that he was staying, but somehow doubted it. 

Still chuckling to himself, Harry set the flashlight down on the desk and took out a fresh sheet of parchment. 

__

Dear

Snuffles…

But there was no more. The Boy Who Lived had fallen asleep with his quill in the inkwell.

*

Remus awoke in a cheerfully decorated room, quite disoriented, and wondered why on earth he was on top of a piano. Sunlight was streaming in the open window, and he could hear voices outside. From the tone of things, Sirius was taunting someone about something or other; old habits died hard. Remus wasn't quite ready to hear that at eight o'clock in the morning the day after the full moon, and so rolled over, intending to pull his pillow over his head.

However, he forgot that he'd been lying on top of a piano, and just ended up smacking his head off of the keys. Cursing quietly to himself, Remus straightened, moved off of the dangerous instrument, and made his way over to the window, pulling on his clothes along the way.

As he had suspected, Sirius was out there cracking jokes about the bloody owl again. 

"I could understand your obsession with Green better if I knew why you find it so incredibly hilarious," Anya commented, grabbing a handful of what Remus could see were petunias (evidently she thought they were weeds).

"To quote you- lighten up," Sirius replied, making faces at Leon, who was seated beside him on the blanket. "I just think it's a little funny that everything matches. I mean-" he gestured towards the garden, "face it, Anya, everything is green except the outside of the house."

"I happen to like green, okay?" After turning around just enough to give Sirius a Look (the kind that melted lesser men), Anya glanced down at the ground she was working (she gave it a Look, too, and it didn't melt, either), then up again. She muttered something that Remus didn't quite catch and, evidently satisfied, went back up the path, past the gnomes, and into the house again.

Sirius watched her go, laughing. Leon squealed and clapped as if he hadn't a care in the world. Remus, quite sure of what he would see, leaned his head out the window and looked up. Sure enough, the house was a bedazzling shade of emerald green. He shook his head. _Sidhe. Who knew?_

There was a knock at the door and Arabella came in, carrying a large steaming goblet full of what was undoubtedly some horrible-tasting potion to make him feel better. He downed it in as few sips as possible, not wanting to have to taste the stuff longer than was absolutely necessary. 

"Feel better now?" Arabella asked, eyeing Remus' newest scar through his open robe with an apprehensive look on her face.

Remus nodded slightly. "I don't suppose it's my turn in the bathroom?"

Arabella laughed. "Remus, do you have any idea how many bathrooms there are in this house?"

"Good point. Are Mundungus and Charlie up yet?"

"Yes," she answered, taking the goblet back and heading towards the kitchen. "I guess you heard the other two making a scene in the garden. You missed their drinking songs last night- they can't seem to decide if they're friends or foes. At any rate, Charlie's gone to pick up Ron before Harry gets here and Mundungus is having a word with the gnomes- that man is the next Mad-Eye Moody." She gestured toward the kitchen. "Breakfast is on the table, you just need a Warming Charm."

__

Excellent, Remus thought, _I don't have to cook._

"As for myself," Arabella continued with a sigh (Remus privately wondered how much more she could say in answer to a very specific question), "I've got to Floo to the Ministry to get the anti-Apparition wards approved."

Remus snickered. He could tell by her tone that she was not looking forward to dealing with the bureaucrats. "Have fun."

"Oh, _thank_ you," she said sarcastically. "I'll be sure to do that while I'm sitting in the waiting room for three hours-" She was still grumbling about it even as she tossed Floo powder into the flames.

*

Harry had all of his things put together by early Sunday morning, but decided not to tell his uncle he was leaving until just before it was time to go. There was less risk of being kicked out onto the streets early that way. By the time four-thirty rolled around, he had dragged his trunk and Hedwig's cage down the stairs, bid his relatives goodbye, and shut the door to number four, Privet Drive, for the last time that summer.

Deciding that the Ministry wasn't likely to care at this point in the turmoil it was in if he used a Featherweight Charm or not, he swished his wand at his trunk and pulled it across the street, making sure to conceal his wand up his sleeve while he was using it.

Light-hearted for the first time in weeks, Harry let his trunk slide to a stop in the gravel beside the road. He shoved his wand in his pocket and waited patiently for five o'clock and the Knight Bus.

At two minutes past it appeared, and Harry jumped up.

"Hiya, Neville," Stan Shunpike grinned and winked at him from the door of the bus. "Lemme 'elp ya with that."

"'Lo, Stan," Harry said, suppressing his questions about the name. It was probably best that people didn't know who he was, anyway. Together, he and the older boy hoisted his trunk aboard. Harry flattened his bangs nervously.

"Busy day today, Neville," Stan informed him, dragging the trunk up to the bus' third deck, "but you've got a reservation, so we saved a room for you."

Harry looked around in amazement. The last time he'd been on the bus, he had stayed in a bed on the second level. He had assumed that the other two floors were identical, and perhaps at one time they had been. Now, however, the third floor was made up of four small cabins, one of which had a small 'reserved' sign on the door. The others were all occupied, from the _Do Not Disturb_ signs on their door-handles. "Wow," Harry said appreciatively. "Thanks, Stan."

"Don' mention it." Stan grinned. "You'll prolly be here 'til morning- we got twelve full beds downstairs, and you got a long way to go."

"Really?" Harry asked curiously. "Where'm I going?"

"Can't tell," the other boy answered. "Promised I wouldn'. But you'll find out soon enough."

To keep his mind from getting too curious, Harry pulled his History of Magic textbook out of his trunk and began to read. His History of Magic professor, a ghost named Binns, had given homework assignments over the summer break, as most Hogwarts professors were prone to do, and Harry hadn't even started this one, a historical account of Stonehenge.

__

The stones were moved under Arthur's reign, presumably by the giants who roamed the isles at that time (although some sources say that it was in fact Merlin who did the lifting). As this disrupted the Gate, it also prevented the capture and subsequent destruction of suspected warlock Sheridon O'Devlin, who is supposed to have been invincible in our own realm… The text continued like this for some pages.

Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly and decided that he'd had enough. He felt too excited to sleep, but he knew he should at least try, or he'd never be able to keep up with Sirius' news the following day.

Despite his eagerness, Harry fell asleep within minutes.

*

Harry was roused the next morning by someone's enthusiastic shouts. "Time to wake up, Neville," Stan's voice called. "We're nearly there."

Harry splashed some water from the small sink on his face to wake himself up and tossed his books, ink and parchment back into his trunk, latching it tight. "Nearly where?" he yelled back.

"Look out the window," Stan answered from the doorway, "and see for yourself." He set down a tray with a simple breakfast on the table. 

Grabbing a piece of toast, Harry moved towards the window, trying to identify any sort of landmark there might be. There were none, however, just hill after rolling green hill. _That explains the owl_, Harry thought to himself. "Somewhere in Ireland?" He hoped he wouldn't be staying in the middle of a war zone between Catholics and Protestants.

"You got it," Stan nodded. "You're a smart kid, Neville." He pointed to the two houses on the left side. "See them houses? That's where you're going."

Harry stared. 'Houses' was not the word he would have chosen. Both were huge, multi-story affairs, one white and modern and the other dark gray stone (although for a moment, Harry almost thought it was green) with four turrets. "Well," he said when the bus lurched to a stop, "How much do I owe you this time?"

"Wot's that? Nah, Neville, the bloke who booked your passage- Orion Longbottom, was it?" Harry nodded enthusiastically. "Insisted on payin' in advance."

Having unloaded all of his things, Harry waved goodbye. 

"Bye, Harry- I mean, Neville," Stan yelled, and the Knight Bus popped and winked out of sight.

Harry looked with some degree of apprehension at the two gates before him. Which was the right one? The names on the gate-posts didn't give him much of a clue. Although he hadn't been expecting 'Black' or 'Lupin,' he had thought there would be _some_ sort of hint-

As it turned out, Harry didn't have to wonder for long. Just as he'd decided to try the older house first, he felt his feet leaving the ground. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that his trunk was following in the same fashion. Both of them floated through the now-open gate. 

No sooner had it shut behind him than something or someone decided that he needed to be crushed. "Harry! Good to see you!"

"Sirius? I'd say the same, except I can't see you… could you possibly put me down now?"

Sirius did so and took a step back to appraise his godson. "Harry- you're _tall_!"

Harry turned red. "Yeah- it, um, happens." He grinned. "You're in a good mood," he commented as Sirius grabbed his trunk.

Sirius shrugged (to the extent that one can shrug whilst carrying an extremely heavy trunk), looking slightly abashed. "I'm tired of people telling me to lighten up," he explained. "It gets annoying."

Harry followed him through a second gate and looked around in awe. All of the flowers, even the ones that were out of season, seemed to be in bloom. There were orange tiger-lilies and purple irises and mock-orange bushes in all of their white splendor, complimented nicely by random patches of unidentifiable blue flowers and some climbing rosebushes. To Harry's immense satisfaction, there wasn't a single petunia or a begonia in sight. _Wow,_ he thought, _someone got a little overzealous with an Ever-Bloom Charm._

"It didn't look that way earlier this morning," Sirius said, correctly interpreting Harry's awed expression. "Remus hit the grounds with some charm about an hour ago. Nothing was blooming before that- it was green, just like Mada Dymphna."

They came to the end of the mock-orange hedge and Harry was allowed his first clear view of the grounds. His old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Remus Lupin, was stretched out on a blanket, sleeping. Curled up beside him was a child no older than ten months. Two other people Harry didn't recognize at first sight were also seated there. A laughing, dark-haired woman in an emerald dress was dancing an energetic jig with a man that could only be Charlie Weasley on the porch that ran a third of the way around the front of the house. 

"Is everyone around here as crazy as you, Sirius?" he asked as the older man flopped down on the grass.

"Only Mundungus and Anya," Sirius answered gamely. "And Charlie, if you happen to have any Ogden's Old Firewhiskey with you."

"Anya's the one who's dancing, I take it," Harry said, following Sirius' gaze. "Doesn't sound Irish to me."

A troubled look crossed Sirius' face. "No, it doesn't." He seemed to dismiss that perplexing tidbit. "Anyway, why don't you go in and choose a room? The ones on the ground floor are taken, but the ones upstairs are still empty."

"Go in there and just… choose a room?" he asked, incredulous. He'd never had that kind of a choice before. "Er… won't I get lost?" His gaze was still fixed on the porch. "And how do I get past the gnomes?"

"Good point," Sirius admitted, standing, "although I don't know what the problem is about choosing a room- there's not much selection. The password for getting past the guard gnomes is Ard Aon Aine. That's what you get, letting Anya make it up. It is her house, though."

Once past the gnomes, Harry found himself amazed once more by the size and ancient elegance of the place. A sign above the arched doorway into the sitting room read _Tá sé Dromore_, and, beneath that, _Cead Mille Failte_. Gazing reverently at the vaulted ceiling, Harry didn't see the other boy until it was too late.

"Oof," the breath rushed out of them.

"Sorry," Harry said, reaching down to help him up. Then, upon seeing the bright red hair and freckled face, grinned widely and exclaimed, "Ron! What're you doing here?"

"What do you think?" he asked, grasping Harry's hand and pulling himself up. "I'm here to visit you, you prat!"

Harry grinned sheepishly and turned to ask Sirius if he had set everything up- but his godfather wasn't there. With an uneasy mental shrug, he allowed Ron to drag him up the stairs to see the rest of the house.

*

Charlie heard the thump of one or more bodies hitting the floor over the music and took a break from dancing. "Well, they've met," he said, a half-grin on his face. "Guess all that's left to do is wait for them to wreak havoc."

Sirius, closing the door behind him. "I give them an hour."

Charlie shook his head. "Give Ron more credit, Sirius. I'd be surprised if it's more than twenty minutes."

"Harry Potter is not going to wreak _anything_ in this house until we've been formally introduced," Anya said, downing half her glass of water. "Besides how much havoc could possibly _be_ wreaked on a-"

Charlie gave a start and caught her eye before she could go any further.

"-Fellow lover of chaos?" Anya finished. Sirius regarded her suspiciously, but said nothing.

"Actually," Charlie said, with a wary glance at the older man, "these two are well-behaved compared to their relations. Ron has Fred and George to measure up to in terms of mischief. And James Potter was a legend… but the only thing Harry's famous for is getting into trouble."

"I heard that," came a voice from upstairs. Harry himself was standing on the east turret balcony, looking down at them.

"Don't worry, Harry," Sirius yelled up. "You're not a total loss. I'll teach you the basics tomorrow."

"I'll help," Anya volunteered. "See if we can get those three stiffs to-" Here she winked at Sirius- "lighten up a bit."

"Heard that," called Remus, not moving an inch otherwise.

Charlie jumped. He had thought that the werewolf had been sleeping off the full moon.

"Hi, Professor Lupin," Harry called down.

"Hi, Professor Lupin," Ron echoed, appearing beside Harry on the balcony.

"All right, you two," Charlie said, craning his neck so that he could see them. "Come back down here and meet everyone properly like good, _polite_ guests."

There was the sound of loud thudding made by teenage boys scampering down the wooden stairs, and the two friends came back out the front door again. Ron regarded the gnomes with curiosity, but withheld any questions he might have had.

"Harry," Charlie said, resigned to making the introductions, "this is Anya. Anya, you remember my brother Ron. This is his friend Harry." He figured that Harry wouldn't appreciate being introduced as _the_ Harry Potter.

"Hi, Harry," Anya said gamely, shaking his hand and saying the name as if she'd never heard of him before. "Nice to meet you."

Harry was staring at her, almost slack-jawed, his hand loose in hers. Sirius snorted to himself and prompted quietly, "The word you're looking for is 'hello,' Harry."

Harry's ears turned pink, but he got his voice back. "Hello, Anya."

"And this is Mundungus Fletcher," Charlie said. "You've probably heard Dad talking about him, Ron- he's the one with all the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts violations."

"Hello," the boys chorused, and Mundungus gave a half-bow.

"The member you probably haven't met is Arabella Figg. She's been living the past few years as a Muggle-" 

But Harry had given a startled exclamation and was staring at her in a way very different to the way he'd stared at Anya. "Mrs. Figg?" he asked. "I didn't know you were a witch! Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

Arabella smiled somewhat sadly. "Would you have believed me, Harry, dear? Or would you have thought me a crazy old woman with too many cats?"

"Are they- Kneazles, then?" Harry asked curiously.

Arabella's smile turned mysterious. "I wonder," she said cryptically.

Charlie, satisfied with his introductions, made his excuses and retreated to the fireplace. He had promised Ginny that he would give her a few Quidditch tips before she went to Hermione's for a week of intense Muggle studies, and it would soon be too hot to even think about being on a broomstick.

*

She was curled up on the sofa, a large, decrepit book in her lap, when he Flooed in. Her bright red hair was as neatly styled as usual, which was to say not very. There was a half-full glass of lemonade on the table beside her.

"Hi, Ginny," Charlie said, shaking soot out of his hair. "What's up?"

"Hmm?" Ginny asked distractedly without looking up. "Oh. I'm just going over the book Anya lent me- it's fascinating… about all the legends of the Shee and old Ireland." She turned another page. "Makes for heavy reading, though." Ginny shut the book carefully and Charlie could see that it was a good six inches thick.

"And you're voluntarily wading through it," Charlie said in wonder. "But, why? It's a gorgeous day; let's go play some Quidditch."

Ginny stifled a yawn. "Mm? Oh- yes. Just let me get my broom."

She returned within a few moments, Charlie's old Comet 360 slung over her shoulder. There was a new spring in her step, but now that she wasn't bent over a book he could see the dark circles under her eyes. "Are you still having those nightmares?" Charlie asked, trying to sound unconcerned.

"Once in a while," Ginny answered slowly. Then, quicker, "Not often, though."

__

Right. "Good," he answered, not voicing his opinion but cataloguing her answer for later. "So what do you want to practice today? Aim? Speed?" He Summoned his broom from the stand by the door.

"Actually," she answered, "Can you- teach me how to be Chaser?" She looked up at him hopefully. "I mean, I know what I have to do- I just don't really know how to do it… and the Chasers look like they have the most fun anyway."

"And get hit with the most Bludgers," Charlie rejoined, suddenly protective. He sighed, knowing that he couldn't big brother her forever. "All right, Chaser it is. Lead the way."

It was probably the sunniest day so far that summer, at least at The Burrow and in the field behind it. Charlie and Ginny mounted their brooms and flew up into the air, side by side.

"If you want to be Chaser," Charlie said, hovering a few feet away, "the first thing you've got to know is how to fly well with no hands." He demonstrated by turning a few tight circles, a steep climb, and a sharp dive. 

"Okay," Ginny said, looking a bit doubtful. Hands clasped together behind her back, she flew three tight, perfect circles. When she tried the climb, however, she got a funny look on her face and flailed her arms out a bit, grasping at her broom.

"Easy," Charlie said, flying quickly up behind her. "Don't try to do too much at once. Riding a broom is like learning a second language- you need practice, not just theory. Try again, slower this time."

Looking determined, Ginny laced her hands behind her once more and attempted the same steep climb. This time, although much slower, she got the height she desired with only a slight wobble. Ginny gave him a shaky smile. "I don't know if I can do this, Charlie-"

"Of course you can," he consoled, mentally preparing his I-Believe-In-You speech. "Like I said, you just need practice. Now," he grinned brightly, "fly! Because if I catch you, that's the end of today's lesson!"

Ginny shrieked and flew off with a lot more confidence than she'd had mere moments before, heading for the orchard. Charlie gave pursuit, Summoning a couple of apples and transfiguring them into pillows to whack her with. When he caught up to her, which wasn't long later as his broom was a much newer model, and raised one above his head, she reached out her hands and grabbed the other one, knocking him in the side.

"Oof," Charlie wheezed, exaggerating.

As he had known she would, Ginny flew forward, a look of worry on her face. "Charlie?" He swung the pillow and Ginny ducked out of the way just in time, laughing. "You cheater!"

"All's fair in Quidditch training, Gin," Charlie said, racing away from her. 

Ginny flew after him, brandishing her pillow and laughing.

*

"Will it be ready in time?"

"Nearly, my Lord," he murmured in the darkness, bent low at his master's feet. "I estimate that it needs to brew for another five days."

"Estimate?" the Dark Lord hissed, tapping his wand on the arm of his chair.

The servant let his head drop further. "It will be ready in five days, Lord."

"Good. You well remember the punishment for imperfection, I presume?"

"Yes, my Lord," he answered, eyes closed. He knew what was coming.

"Even so, perhaps it would do to remind you, Severus. Fail me this time, and the last thing you hear from me will not be _Crucio_."

Severus' world erupted into fiery hell.

*

Since I've got no review thanks/question answers at the bottom anymore, I'll pose a few of my own and we'll see who can get the most right.

1. What is the significance of Ginny's insomnia? (Don't spoil it, those precious few of you whom I've _told!_)

2. Who is the potion for? (Ditto for question one.)

3. Whose side is Snape on?


	8. Spin a Tale in Dreams

The Lion and the Unicorn __

The Lion and the Unicorn

I would just like to say that what has started out as a Charlie story has become much more than I thought it was in the first place… Charlie, instead of being the main character as was meant, is now merely one of the players in a game I'm only just beginning to understand… be patient with me; he is_ an important link. Also, try to tolerate my take on Cornelius Fudge. We don't really know too much about him, anyway._

I apologize for both the length of the chapter and the length of time it took to come out. Writers' block is a pain. 

Chapter Eight: Spin a Tale In Dreams

(See previous chapters for disclaimer)

Ginny slammed the lid of her trunk down and sat on the lid, wondering if she would have to jump up and down on it to get it to close properly. It did, however, and she glanced at it suspiciously as if it were going to explode again. She grabbed one handle and started pulling it toward the door. 

She made it halfway down the hallway before giving up and calling for her brother. "Charlie! Can you come help with this, please?"

Her request did not have the desired results. Fred and George burst out of their room, saw her distress, and confiscated her trunk. "We'll take that for you, Ginny," Fred said, weaseling his way in front of her. "Don't worry; it's not a problem-"

"You're right," Ginny said, restraining her panic. She swallowed hard as she remembered the most important equation for life at The Burrow, F + G = T, where F and G were her brothers and T was trouble. "It's not going to be a problem. Because you are not going to sabotage my trunk, you miscreants! Unhand my luggage!" 

"Did you say something, Gin?" George asked, grabbing the opposite end of the trunk and helping Fred carry it down the stairs. 

"I didn't hear anything," Fred replied, nearly tripping over a step. As one, they stumbled down a few steps, swayed dangerously to one side, and inevitably fell over at the bottom of the stairwell, sending themselves and Ginny's trunk sprawling. It skidded to a halt, open once again, at the end of the hall. Fred, looking completely unhurt to Ginny's expert eye, bounded after it. "George, you clumsy oaf," he said. "Now we'll have to fix it."

"No," Ginny broke in, suddenly quite alarmed. "That's quite alright- I'll pack it back up by myself, thanks-"

"You hear something, Fred?"

"Just that we've got to fix this trunk before our dear sister has a fit. Lend me a hand, would you?" Together, the twins managed to stuff everything back in again. Fred gave the inside of the lid a triumphant pat before slamming it shut and, with the help of his brother, locking it that way. 

"Good as new," George said brightly.

Ginny doubted it, but she hadn't seen any trickery, so miraculously held her tongue on the subject. "Well, at least you got the trunk downstairs." She surveyed the chaos with raised brow. One of the twins had accidentally knocked over a table and there was a dent in the wall where her traveling case had hit it and bounced off again. "Although I probably could have done it myself with less damage to the rest of the house."

"Always glad to help," one twin responded, giving a sharp salute before they both retreated to their bedroom. 

Ginny sighed. _Brothers. Can't live with them, can't kill them, not allowed to use magic outside of school._ She dragged her trunk the rest of the way to the fireplace. "I'm leaving now!" she announced to the empty room, not sure what kind of reaction she would get. It was always different; sometimes Fred and George set off Filibuster Fireworks; sometimes they didn't bother to show up to say goodbye. She hoped this was one of those times.

Bill, who had been discussing something with her father, popped in for a minute. "Going so soon, Gin? It seems like I've hardly seen you since I moved back!" 

Ginny made a face. "That's because you, like everyone else in our family, Ron excepted, work too much. Charlie's always with Dumbledore and Anya and their lot doing Merlin only knows what and you're always on assignment somewhere or other; Percy practically lives at the Ministry and the only time Fred and George come out of their room is to play some sort of mean trick involving Cockroach Clusters and windup mice! Dad's at the Ministry almost as much as Percy is and Mum's got so much to do around the house she can hardly spare a second to ask me what I think Harry wants for his birthday this year and-" Here she stopped, rubbed at her eyes, and sighed. "Oh… fudge it. Tell Mum I said goodbye, Bill; I need to get out of here. I'm losing what little sanity I had left." She turned and tossed a handful of Floo powder into the flames. "The Grangers'!" Ginny yelled and stepped forward, pulling her trunk behind her.

She didn't know how on earth Mr. Weasley had gotten the Muggle family hooked up to the Floo network after the fiasco at the Dursleys', but he had. Granted, it could have had something to do with the fact that Hermione was a superb student, or the fact that it was a young, innocent girl who was doing the traveling rather than three loud, obnoxious boys. However, it probably had more to do with preoccupied Ministry agents.

The Floo spit her out at exactly eleven o'clock on the Grangers' hearth. There was an old grandfather clock in one corner of the room, which looked nothing like any grandfather clock Ginny had ever seen, but it was intriguing just the same. The whole room was done in white, which made sense from what Ginny knew of dentists. Hermione's family was sitting, slightly shocked, on the couch. Apparently Hermione's parents, being Muggles, were not used to wizard transportation. "Hello," Ginny said, trying not to feel awkward. "You must be Mr. and Mrs. Granger. I'm Ginny Weasley. How do you do?" Making sure not to track soot on the carpet, she extended her hand. Mr. Weasley took it firmly and pumped it up and down.

"Good to see you again, Ginny," he said, the color already returning to his cheeks.

"Hello, Mr. Granger," she replied, smiling.

"Oh, you can call me Rob."

Ginny catalogued the name (although, she thought to herself, she'd probably stick to 'Mr. Granger,' as calling someone she had met twice in her entire life by his first name seemed a bit strange, especially since he was an adult) and shook hands with Mrs. Granger.

"Madeline," she introduced herself, smiling warmly. "Hermione, why don't you help Ginny get settled in? We can get better acquainted over lunch."

Ginny's stomach growled and she took an immediate liking to Mrs. Granger. She had skipped breakfast that morning in her rush to pack everything she'd need all summer and at Hogwarts afterwards.

Hermione helped her with her things and together they plopped the trunk down at the end of the guest bed. Ginny flopped backwards onto it, stifling a yawn. "It is so good to be here," she managed to say, eyes closed. "Fred and George wear me out when they're around, and when they're not, which is most of the time, things get pretty dull. I've spent half my summer reading!" Ginny injected unfelt disgust into this last sentence, but said it with a teasing look on her face.

Hermione looked a bit put out at first, but then shook her head and laughed. "You can sound so like Ron when you want to," she said, smiling. "I rather hope that's an air you're putting on, because one of him is quite enough."

"Don't I know it," Ginny replied ruefully, sitting up again. "But on the topic of reading, I did bring along a book I think you'll rather like- it's all about old Celtic legends and magic and other Irish things and makes for interesting reading. I've got it here in my trunk." She bounded off of the bed and flung her trunk open, only to be greeted by a loud crackle of static and then-

__

I'm a rover, seldom sober, I'm a rover of high degree 

The words came bursting out in Ginny's own voice, though Heaven knew how the twins had engineered it. _I knew they were up to something,_ she thought, examining the sticker with the interlocking Ws on it. _Fred and George don't normally listen to Muggle music and they were playing this song all week. Now, how do I get it to stop?_

It's when I'm drinkin' I'm always thinkin' how to gain my love's company 

Then, when the music stopped for a second, the singing voice (joined by several others just like it) gave a shout: "Harry!"

Ginny's mouth dropped open. "I'll kill them," she managed, but the song played on.

__

He stepped up to her bedroom window, kneeling gently upon a stone   
He whispered through her bedroom window,' My darling dear, do you lie alone?' 

And, with the same voices, shouted Harry's name again. Ginny slammed her trunk shut and, mercifully, the song stopped. 

Hermione stared at her for a moment, then collapsed in a fit of giggles. "You do know how the song ends, don't you?"

Ginny nodded, feeling herself turn red. "I've got a sneaking suspicion they'll never let me live it down," she said, sighing. "Do you know how to make it stop?"

Hermione shrugged. "Closing the trunk seemed to work. I'll have a look at it when we get to Hogwarts; I'm sure something can be done, but we're not supposed to use magic on the holidays."

Ginny smiled dryly. "I get the notices too, you know. Every year."

Hermione grinned back. "You really are channeling Ron today."

"Oh, stuff it," Ginny said crossly. "I've had quite enough of brothers for one morning! Besides, Ron's off in Ireland with Harry; it can't possibly be his influence you're sensing." She sighed, her temper cooling a bit. "But I'm sure you know all about that."

Hermione looked down at her hands in what Ginny deemed a guilty fashion. "Well, yes. And you needn't be so bitter about it, because I wasn't invited, either, and the only reason I know about it at all is because Bill sent a note back from The Burrow with Pigwidgeon unanswered and told me so. At least you got the information in person."

"True," Ginny conceded, thinking that it was not the sort of 'in person' she would have liked. "Anyway, who needs them? I, for one, am determined to have a wonderful summer, because if the last three years are any indication whatsoever, I'm not going to have such a wonderful time at school…"

"This year is definitely going to be different," Hermione confirmed. "They mentioned in the _Daily Prophet_ that Hogwarts will have an Auror guard. From what I gather, the school board members had to veto Minister Fudge's vote against it- he still doesn't want to believe that we're in hot water." She sighed and gestured vaguely towards the nightstand. "He's not going to be able to ignore it much longer." 

Ginny picked up the book and gingerly began flipping through. Pasted to the pages were various newspaper clippings, arranged in order of date of print, beginning with the Chamber of Secrets incident. She swallowed hard as she realized that a third of the book had already been taken up. Some, though, seemed completely unrelated to Dark activity at all. Ginny skimmed through one article about an all-too-familiar house-fire in Ireland. "What does this have to do with You-Know-Who?"

Hermione shrugged, looking uncomfortable. "Maybe nothing. I've put all of the bad news in there, though. You never know what could be important."

Ginny nodded to herself and closed the scrapbook, suppressing the urge to shiver. Instead, she turned to Hermione and asked, "So what do we do before lunch?"

The older girl smiled. "Want to go swimming?"

*

"Hermione, I can't wear this!" 

Because she didn't have a bathing suit of her own, Hermione had sent Ginny into the bathroom to try on one of her old ones. One had turned to two, and two to three, and Ginny was now trying on the final bathing suit that had any hope of fitting her. "Why not?" Hermione asked impatiently, flopping back onto the bed. 

"I feel like a scarlet woman," Ginny answered back, sounding absolutely miserable. "It's too revealing. It's like I'm wearing some sort of primitive loincloth!" 

Hermione shook her head. "If we're going to the pool, you have to look like a Muggle, Ginny. You can't go swimming in your school robes."

"Especially not as they don't fit anymore," came the response from behind the door. "Okay, Hermione. I'm coming out- just promise me one thing."

Expecting something about not laughing too hard, Hermione looked up from her spot on the bed. "Of course. What is it that you want?" 

Ginny sighed heavily from behind the door. "Don't jump to conclusions," she begged, and stepped out of the bathroom.

Hermione had to clap a hand over her mouth to stop the strangled gasp from escaping. All of the color drained from her face, and her eyes grew so wide that she felt they were going to fall out. Drawing a deep breath, Hermione could only manage, "What _happened_?"

*

Anya stumbled out of the fireplace so fast that Charlie had the impression she'd been pushed. Coughing desperately, she looked at him with wide and watering eyes. "You will never believe what I found out this morning."

Charlie raised an eyebrow. Anya's life had gotten considerably more chaotic since she had taken a position in the Ministry's Department of Public Relations; he was about as likely to guess correctly as he was to find a Remembrall in a forest. "Probably not, but you'd better tell me anyway, since it seems to be so important."

Anya flopped down into a chair with a dramatic sigh. "Where's Sirius?"

"Playing the piano with Leon," Charlie answered. "It's getting increasingly difficult to tear either of them away from it, or from each other. Although, to be fair, Harry and Ron did get Sirius involved in a number of interesting schemes this morning. But I digress, and so do you. What's up?"

"Get Harry and Sirius," Anya replied. "They deserve to be the first to know."

So it happened that, five minutes later, Sirius, Harry, Ron and Leon gathered in the sitting room with Anya and Charlie to hear this interesting piece of news. "Well?" Charlie asked curiously. "What's so urgent that you're wasting your coffee break to get back here and tell us?"

Anya stood up again and let out a long sigh. "Well. As you know-" she threw a meaningful glance in Sirius' direction but he looked away- "Peter Pettigrew was responsible for the Potters' deaths, and not Sirius as everyone thinks. No one outside of the Order of the Phoenix is even aware that Pettigrew lives. At least, they weren't, until yesterday evening." Anya paused, exhaled deeply, and produced a newspaper from behind her back. "This is tomorrow's issue of the _Daily Prophet._" She shook it out, then folded it so that the front-page headline read clearly to all in the room. "It appears that Amos Diggory has spotted him in Hogsmeade."

*

Sirius was struck completely dumb for the first time he could remember. It seemed as if a hole had opened up in his skull and his mind had fallen through it, splattering the upholstery of the armchair he was sitting in with cerebral fluid. Could it be that after all these years, he might finally be free…?

A few long seconds ticked past and Sirius realized that everyone in the room was looking at him. Anya and Charlie were staring with apprehension, Harry and Ron with curiosity. Leon was playing with his goatee, but Sirius didn't notice. Finally he stood. Without a word, he transferred Leon to Harry's arms and retreated to the back room to think.

As had become his custom, Sirius took a seat at the old piano, running his hand over the smooth wood. After calming himself enough to remember what he was doing, he stretched his long fingers over the keys. The notes came slowly at first, and then more easily as the first ones began to bring back memories of the others. Soon the melody flowed complete from his fingers, and Sirius lost himself for the next few moments in the midst of a song he couldn't remember.

A voice from the doorway startled him out of his trance. "I didn't know you were a Paul McCartney fan, Sirius."

He looked up, reluctant to expose the pain he knew his eyes would give away. "Is that who wrote it." He turned his gaze down to his hands again. 

"Do you sing, too?" He wondered if she was joking, but she sounded just a little too somber for that. 

Sirius shook his head. "I can't remember the lyrics." 

"Oh." Anya sat gingerly beside him on the bench. She shifted a bit, seeming uncomfortable. "You can't control what's happening, you know," she said at length. "You have to take things as they come. This is the first step in the right direction- eventually there will be another trial to clear your name…"

Sirius pulled the cover down over the keys. "There won't be another trial," he said. "If Voldemort is allowing Wormtail to show his face in Hogsmeade, they're either after me in particular or ready to start making some serious moves. The Ministry will be too goddamn busy to bother with someone who's been on the lamb for two years. Besides, the odds of both Pettigrew _and_ I living through this are not so good."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Anya muttered under her breath. Sirius had the sudden, irrational urge to smile. "But it's still only beginning- there's time… for your name to be cleared…" She looked down at the piano. "At any rate, now that someone else in the house can play this, we should move it back to the sitting room. Maybe it'll keep you from being antisocial."

Sirius threw up his hands in mock-exasperation. "First I'm depressed and heavy and now I'm antisocial. I just can't win."

Anya smiled a bit. "Well, you know. Nobody's perfect. Anyway, are you going to help me move this thing or not?"

They stood up, and Anya directed her wand at the piano. It rose into the air and floated through the doorway, bending out of shape as if it were one giant piece of rubber. "And you needed my help for what?"

"You can carry the bench," Anya called back. "Charlie, could you try to find someplace to put this? I've got to get back to work or I'm going to be late..." She kissed Charlie's cheek as she rushed back to the fireplace, tossed a handful of Floo powder into the flames, and was gone less than a second later.

__

Jelly pianos, Sirius thought incredulously. _When I moved in here, I had no idea what I was getting myself into._

*

__

She was standing on flat plain, surrounded by fog on all sides, so thick that she could barely see a few feet before her. The remains of a campfire smoldered in the almost-light of predawn, and a young blond man stood over it, trying to rekindle a flame from the ashes. Although his expression was neutral, there was something in the way his eyes failed to reflect the dull light that made him seem incredibly sad. A sword, one of unusual make, to judge by the scabbard, hung at his side, and there was an elaborate dagger tucked into his belt.

A light came into the grayness and dimmed immediately. The man by the fire spun about to see what was there, but his eyes were just as baffled by the fog as those of the one observing him. He turned around again, his hand going to the hilt of his sword, but too late- the mysterious shadow had taken it and now stood before him, revealed. A shriveled old man pointed the sword at the blond man's throat, smiling a wicked smile. 

Quick as lightning, the first man pulled his dagger from his belt and soon the old man was limp, lying in a heap on the ground. He raised his head a bit and the deep brown eyes swirled into a misty gray as the blond man watched in shock and horror. He knelt beside the rapidly changing form of the old man and pulled his head into his lap- only the old man wasn't an old man anymore. Instead, there lay upon the moor a young-looking woman with hair of spun gold and eyes of iridescent gray, looking at him with an expression of painful forgiveness. The man wept.

After some time he stood, and pressed the bloody dagger into the woman's limp hand. The sword he reattached to his belt and he carried the woman away from the moorland, never to be seen by any mortal again.

Ginny sat up with a start, breathing hard, before flopping back against the pillows. This nightmare was different from the others. They began and ended with Voldemort and his lot. This nightmare had little or nothing to do with them at all, and rather reminded her of one of the stories she'd read in Anya's book before falling asleep.

She flicked on the lamp in the darkness, careful not to knock it over as per Hermione's directions. She grabbed the book from the bedside table and opened it to the pages before the bookmark.

Sure enough, the dream matched exactly to that particular legend, which had to do with one of the Knights of the Round Table, Sir Galahad, and his tragic love affair with Aine, at that time the ruler of Avalon. Aine, more magic than mortal by nature simply from living on the isle and almost a hundred years Galahad's senior, had been rather fond keeping Galahad on his guard, insisting that a woman could fight as well as any man if she had the proper training. Despite her skill with her dagger, however, Aine was captured by the Dark Wizard of the Anglo-Saxons and held for ransom.

Galahad was devastated. Having no idea that she had escaped from their enemies' clutches, he set out to rescue her, praying that he was not too late. His gallantry went afoul, however, and he met his love for the last time on the Salisbury Plain where Stonehenge was later moved. 

Unable to bear the thought of sending Queen Aine's body back to the people who had so loved her, Galahad brought her instead to the temple at Newgrange, and laid her body and blade to rest in a chamber deep beneath the surface. Then, stricken with grief and guilt over what he had done, he journeyed to Stonehenge, which had been in Ireland at the time, and impaled himself upon his own sword on the Slaughter Stone. Both body and sword disappeared from the world of the living and were never seen again.

Ginny closed the book and leaned back with a sigh. She didn't see anything so unusual about the dream at all, which was wonderful. It was a perfectly unremarkable nightmare. Of course, there were other interpretations of when and why Galahad had vanished. In one, he drank from the Holy Grail after healing King Pelles with a spear and simply disappeared, along with the Grail itself. In the version Anya's book of legends supported, Galahad drank from the cup and it granted him a certain degree of immortality. Galahad later decided that his life was worthless without love and slayed himself with his own blade, the only one with the power to do so. Ginny thought that that was going a bit far, but they were only legends, after all. She turned off the lamp, closed her eyes, and let sleep take her once more.

*

Hermione woke Ginny up the next morning looking like she was going to explode. She was shifting from foot to foot anxiously, holding an already crinkled newspaper in her hands and calling, "Ginny! Ginny, wake up!" when the younger girl finally opened her eyes, shielding her face from the sunlight that shone in through the window. 

"Hermione… Are you always up this early?" she asked, sitting up in bed. 

"I couldn't sleep," Hermione replied, flopping down at Ginny's feet. "Anyway, you need to read this before something drastic happens, like I pass out."

Ginny raised her eyebrows, but took the newspaper from Hermione's outstretched hand.

__

Murdered Man Spotted Alive in Hogsmeade

Ginny snorted. It was probably just a ghost- murdered people often ended up sticking around to haunt those who had wronged them. Still, if Hermione was this worked up about it, she had better read the entire article, just in case. 

By the time Ginny was finished reading the article, she was as white as Hermione was excited and bouncy. "Okay," she managed, "so what do you know that the rest of us don't? Textbook information aside, of course."

"Well, think about it," Hermione answered. "If Peter Pettigrew is alive, that means that Sirius Black didn't kill him. And if Sirius- er, if Black didn't kill him, he might not have killed the other people in the alley. If he didn't do that, he might not have betrayed the Potters. And then there's the object of why Pettigrew hasn't come forward before now, if he's still alive. Why did he just let everyone believe that Sirius had killed him? And how did he hide so well?"

Ginny knew Hermione well enough to know that she knew the answers to at least some of the questions she had just asked. "What are you saying? Are you saying that Black is innocent? Because that's a lot of ifs, Hermione."

"Oh, I'm just saying," Hermione answered, looking nervous, "that it's, you know, possible that we've got everything wrong. And it would be kind of nice, because Sirius Black is Harry's legal guardian and then he wouldn't have to live with those awful Dursleys anymore-"She must have seen the look on Ginny's face, because she stopped there.

"Harry's legal guardian?" Ginny said, eyes wide. _I'm not even sure if that's good news or bad. Oh, I wish I'd never read that article…_ "I think you'd better explain."

Hermione sighed heavily. "All right, but I'm warning you now, it's a long story…"

*

__

Dear Dumbledore,

Ran across a frightening strange lot of rotters the other night in Norway. Caused a fair bit of trouble. Couple of our lot been injured pretty bad. Managed to wipe out the bunch of them with clubs and things. That was the twenty-fourth- yesterday. You won't get this letter for another two days, I reckon. Negotiations going fairly poorly.

Hagrid.

He tied the parchment securely to the owl's leg, shaking his head at what he had just written. To Hagrid, it made little sense whatsoever, but he had confidence that Dumbledore could gain something useful from it. He had no idea what that something could be, but every little bit helped.

Without further delay (and with a rather curious glance at Hedwig, who had flown all the way from England to deliver Harry's letter), Hagrid pulled out another piece of parchment.

__

Happy birthday, Harry!…

*

The emergency Ministry meeting was in a state of total chaos. Fairly evenly divided, each side had valid arguments and counter-arguments for the issue, and every person there had lost his or her temper more than once. Cornelius Fudge had a headache of the kind he had never had before. "Order!" he finally shouted, banging his fist on the table. Gradually, the noise level dropped to a dull roar. "Now," Fudge said, still completely furious, "Mr. Malfoy. Would you kindly state your case again."

Lucius Malfoy stood, bowed to the Minister with a look of controlled contempt on his face, and faced the rest of the assembled. "As everyone here is perfectly aware, there have been several unfortunate deaths in the past few months. They are all explainable and perfectly natural, however, considering the circumstances." He began to pace and tick off things on his fingers. "Bertha Jorkins, died on assignment in Albania. Understandable- there are many unscrupulous characters thereabouts."

Fudge noted mentally and with a somewhat fearful glance at Malfoy that there were plenty of unscrupulous characters in Britain, as well.

"Cedric Diggory at the Triwizard Tournament. There have been many deaths at this particular event throughout history- there is no reason for them to stop just because of an age restriction!" Malfoy didn't even bother to send a precursory glance in the boy's father's direction, just went on with his tirade. "Aside from that, one of his fellow champions, Harry Potter, who somehow got _around_ the age restriction-" Lucius cast an angry eye about the room, as if he suspected one of those present had aided that- 

"Everyone present knows how Harry got around the age restriction," Albus Dumbledore injected from the small assembled audience. "Bartemius Crouch, Jr., admitted to it under Veritaserum. You would do well to remember that, Lucius."

Lucius directed his venomous glare at Albus, then continued, "Bad luck seems to follow Potter, at any rate. And then James Dickinson, in a house fire, which is self-explanatory- he got burned to a crisp-"

The new Public Relations deputy just about exploded, Fudge noted, but thankfully restrained herself. Getting her angry was not a good idea. "Shee do not simply _burn_, Mr. Malfoy," she stated through gritted teeth.

Fully aware of Lucius' potent wrath, Fudge gave her a stern look. "I asked Mr. Malfoy to state his views, Miss Dickinson, not you."

She scowled, but didn't shrink or back down. Cornelius almost smiled to himself- she was definitely an asset to whatever side she was on, at any rate.

"I was finished," Lucius stated coldly, and resumed his seat, "except for my closing statement- that there is no unusual activity going on that we need be wary of."

__

Not unusual for you, perhaps, Mr. Malfoy. Fudge nodded. "Very well. Arthur, would you care to address your side of the issue?"

Arthur Weasley stood slowly, clasped his hands behind his back, and stated quite calmly, "By all evidence, Minister, the reason for all of these things is that the Dark Lord has returned."

This naturally caused quite a stir on both sides, but Arthur held his ground. Fudge, tired of denying what had happened any further, let him continue for the first time since Arthur had become concerned with the issue.

Casting an uncertain glance at Amos Diggory, who seemed to be somewhat bothered by the whole business, Arthur elaborated. "He first resurfaced a few years ago in a host body, when Harry Potter managed to send him into hiding for another two years. Last year he returned again, this time much stronger. He killed several Muggles and a few others, Bertha Jorkins possibly among them. His agent, Bartemius Crouch, Jr., entered Harry Potter in the Triwizard Tournament in an attempt to get him killed. When that failed, the Cup was turned into a Portkey. By Potter's account, he and Cedric Diggory tied the third task and took the Cup together, then were transported to a Muggle graveyard where Diggory was killed. Potter escaped, aided by the luck he's had since he was only a year old, and brought Diggory's body back with him." Arthur shrugged slightly. "I have no explanation for James Dickinson's death. Perhaps it was a house fire that killed him, but I personally believe he was dead before that."

The Public Relations deputy looked as if she were about to say something, but thought better of it. Fudge nodded slightly- junior employees should know their places. 

He banged the gavel on the table. "The topic is now closed. What of the question of the Peter Pettigrew sighting?"

Amos Diggory stood. "It couldn't have been anyone else, Minister. I knew Pettigrew at school- he was two years below me- but I also knew him afterward. We worked together at the Ministry for a while. He was solid when I bumped into him- or should I say when he bumped into me- and muttering under his breath about some potion or another and the immediate need for it. He just said, 'Good evening, Amos,' and kept walking. I was stunned." He fidgeted and sat down again.

"Have you any arguments to that, Mr. Malfoy?" Fudge challenged, feeling especially brave. Lucius shook his head no. "Very well." He glanced at his watch, wondering how much longer the meeting would have to last. "How do we addressthe issue?"

*

The dawn of July thirty-first sneaked up on the house quite late, when its occupants (most of them, at least) were already in action. Anya Dickinson was busily shooting streamers from the end of her wand, while Sirius was futilely attempting to teach Remus how to bake a birthday cake. Leon was still asleep (for once), Charlie was at The Burrow gathering party guests, and Arabella and Mundungus were on call, out somewhere spying at Dumbledore's request. Ron Weasley stumbled down the stairs as quietly as he could manage and into the kitchen to survey the mess.

"Astounding," he said, grinning wildly at the mess Remus was making. "You must be a worse cook than Charlie!"

Remus looked like he was trying his best to scowl at him, but the sight of Sirius completely covered in flour (Remus' fault, undoubtedly, Ron thought) must have betrayed him. "That cannot be possible," he said instead, flinging a piece of chocolate at his friend. "Do you believe me that I'm hopeless yet, Padfoot?"

"Oh, I knew that a long time ago. Still, frustrating you is fun." Sirius grinned. "I already finished the cake. You, my dear Moony, have been had."

Ron chuckled at Remus' look of ire and set about making some breakfast. "You haven't used all the eggs, have you, Sirius? We're out of bread for toast."

"Actually, Remus did," Sirius replied. "No matter. Go wake Harry up; you can have cake for breakfast."

"Sound!" Ron exclaimed. His mother would never let him have cake for breakfast.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Sirius?" Remus asked, using his wand to clean up the spilled flour. "They're going to get quite enough sugar as it is. And shouldn't we wait until Hermione and the Weasleys are here to-" 

__

Weasleys? thought Ron. _Dad must have told Ginny, Fred, and George about Sirius. _The thought was interrupted by a somewhat loud crash from the living room. "Never mind."

They all hurried into the living room just as Harry was descending the stairs. He looked totally bewildered at the decorations and the guests until the piano began to play _Happy Birthday_ all by itself and everyone began to sing. So it came to pass that Harry Potter had the first birthday party that he would ever remember.

Questions:

1) How does _I'm a Rover_ end?

2) Doesn't Sirius look great in his goatee?

3) What _was_ he playing on the piano?


	9. I'll Drink to That

The Lion and the Unicorn __

The Lion and the Unicorn

Try not to feel too bad for Charlie (this gets difficult; I have a hard time controlling myself). Sooner or later, things will look up for him. Sorry this took so long. It was typed pretty much in the span of two days because of evil vacation sans computers.

Author's note: Due to the plagiarism scandal, I am now going to credit every single song I've used so far. I was going to have a tournament to see who could guess the most and reward it with a cameo, but I got nervous, so here goes…

Chapter One: Poem, _The Lion and the Unicorn_, by Lewis Carroll

Chapter Two: Song, _The Band Played Waltzing Matilda, _by Eric Bogle

Chapter Three: Song, _The Band Played Waltzing Matilda,_ by Eric Bogle

Chapter Four: ?, _The Lady of the Summerland, _(traditional?)

Chapter Five: Song?, _Castle Dromore_, Traditional

Chapter Six: Song, _The D-Day Dodgers, _Unknown

Chapter Seven: Song, _Follow Me Up To Carlow, _by Patrick Joseph McCall

Chapter Eight: Song, _I'm a Rover,_ Traditional

Chapter Nine: Song, _Only Our Rivers Run Free, _by Michael McConnell

__

Chapter Nine: I'll Drink to That

How sweet is life but we're crying   
How mellow the wine but it's dry   
How fragrant the rose but it's dying   
How gentle the breeze but it sighs   
What good is in youth when it's aging   
What joy is in eyes that can't see   
When there's sorrow in sunshine and flowers   
And still only our rivers run free

While Harry cut his birthday cake many miles away, Arabella and Mundungus were just leaving Hogwarts, where they had been briefed for their mission. They, along with a few other experienced members of the Order, had been elected to supervise the goings-on at the summit that night, an important and very dangerous position to be in. According to the spy planted amidst Voldemort's supporters, it was to take place at a Muggle graveyard at approximately midnight, under a moonless sky. 

Arabella shut the door behind her just as a chill breeze swept across the grounds, making the trees whisper in the half-shadow that was the Forbidden Forest. Although it was only just past five o'clock in the evening, it was already twilight there; it never seemed to get much lighter. She glanced at Mundungus. He was staring off into the distance as if searching for a sign, a trace of someone long past, and Arabella bowed her head. He had experienced loss that she could not even begin to imagine, and so she gave him a few undisturbed moments with his thoughts. 

She raised her eyes when she felt his eyes upon her and smiled weakly. "Ready to go?" They would be taking a Portkey to the Muggle town and meeting in the local pub with the other members of their team before making the journey up to the graveyard. 

Mundungus nodded vaguely, his eyes settling back on the horizon as if he were expecting some visible dark specter to appear. They both took hold of the Portkey and a second later, no trace of them could be found at Hogwarts.

*

The fact of the matter was, Charlie reflected, that Mundungus and Arabella were experienced and that he was not. The fact rankled with him. Part of the reason he had come back from Romania was that he couldn't stand watching while the world collapsed into chaos. Yet here he was, helping with a birthday party when he should have been protecting the ones he loved from evil-

"Relax, Charlie," Anya commanded.

He started, glancing over his shoulder at her. He hadn't known she'd been watching him. "I'm trying to relax," he said, sighing in defeat. "How can I possibly be calm when two members of our team are out there fighting for our freedom and I am here, co-hosting a _party_? Anya, I must be going insane. How are you keeping your wits about you?"

Anya smiled slightly. "Someone here has to." She shrugged a bit, glancing over at the lively group huddled around the piano. "Besides, haven't I always been the calm one?"

Charlie recalled a simpler time and grinned a grin so wide it was almost a leer. "No."

Anya's eyebrows shot up. "Don't you _dare_ bring that up now," she warned, a playful light in her eyes. 

"What?" Charlie asked innocently. "Most of them suspect something's up, anyway. You heard what Ginny asked me as clear as I did, I bet. And it's not like you act as if our relationship-"

"Charlie," she warned again. This time, she wasn't playing. The teasing expression was gone from her face, replaced by one of pleading. Something in her voice wrenched his heart. "You promised."

"Right," he said after a pause, feeling foolish. "Er- sorry- I just…"

"I know," Anya said, a vestige of desperation still lingering in her manner. "But we've been over this before. I don't want to have to be afraid that you'll just bring it up- in any conversation- I- Charlie, that's too hard. Okay?"

He nodded, properly chastised, but did not voice another apology. She was not ready to be teased about their past relationship; he knew that it was harder on her than she let on. It was difficult for him, too, of course, and maintaining their friendship when the romance was over had certainly taken a lot more restraint than Charlie thought he had. Though he wouldn't admit it to himself, he would have done it all over again without changing a thing if given the opportunity. 

An outbreak of the giggles near the piano drew his attention, and Charlie turned his head to see Ginny, red-faced, doubled over in laughter and pointing at Harry, whose birthday cake had exploded and left him with frosted eyebrows. Fred and George (as well as Sirius) were grinning ear to ear, Ron was wiping icing off of his nose, and Hermione looked as if for once, she didn't know what to say. Remus, however, was shaking his head in a knowing fashion. Charlie too smiled, but his felt somewhat bitter beneath the skin. 

Anya gave him a look of understanding, and together they joined the rest of the group in singing 'Happy Birthday,' this time with the real, non-exploding cake.

*

"That's them," Arabella stated confidently, watching the two men who had just entered the little pub. 

"You sure?" Mundungus asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow as one took off his cap to reveal shockingly blue hair. "I thought we were dealing with experienced professionals?"

Arabella regarded him blandly. "You didn't get the descriptions; I did. You got the code words. So hurry up with them already."

Mundungus cleared his throat. "Bartender, the lady wants another Shirley Temple!" His eyes tracked the two men as they crossed the room and took the table behind Arabella. Blue-Haired Man's friend looked a bit sulkily to both sides of him as they walked. He might have been a handsome man once, but now it seemed as if the fire in his soul had gone out, leaving behind an empty shell.

"A Shirley Temple?" he asked with false curiosity.

"Some women just can't hold their alcohol," his blue-haired companion answered. Both of them were watching Mundungus and Arabella, trying to appear inconspicuous but not doing a terribly good job of it. 

"Never mind," Mundungus said. "The bill, please!" He paid the man and they left, stepping into the shadows to the left of the door. They didn't have long to wait.

A few moments later, Blue-Haired Man and his companion appeared. "You're our contacts?" Blue-Haired Man asked. Arabella nodded. "Nice to meet you. Granted, the circumstances could've been better. I'm Daedalus Diggle- this is my partner, Amos Diggory."

Diggory extended his hand and Mundungus shook it solemnly. "So you're the man who spotted the traitor," Mundungus said, immediately intrigued. 

"Well, yes," Diggory admitted without the least bit of pride. "And will likely spot him again before the night is through. Shall we go?"

The way up to the graveyard was uneventful, mostly due to the incredible Invisibility Charm Arabella was maintaining. She was fairly exhausted by the time they made it to their positions, however, and so they brought out the potion she'd made, which was to be effective for five hours exactly. This was at nine-thirty.

At half past ten, Daedalus dropped out of the conversation. Suspecting something, Arabella prodded the region he'd been in with her foot. There was a loud snort and Daedalus, who had apparently been sleeping, awoke with a start. Mundungus scolded him sharply, and the minutes ticked on.

At eleven o'clock, a thicker darkness seemed to close in. A short, stout figure clad in brown appeared, wandered around the tombstones for a bit, then pulled out a wand with his left hand, lit it, and inspected the area for intruders. He sat down on a large tombstone at eleven fifteen, apparently satisfied.

At a quarter to twelve, another darkness arrived. This one was tall and wiry and held a steaming goblet in his left hand. The stout man shook almost imperceptibly on his tombstone and stood up warily.

At midnight, the party started.

*

At midnight, the party was finally over. Streamers, silly string, and confetti littered the floor. A werewolf, four teenagers and a baby were sprawled out across the sofas. Sirius Black was asleep with his head on the piano keys. Charlie found that somewhat amusing, because there was an apparently exhausted Shee sleeping on the rest of the piano. He wished he knew where Fred and George had put the camera. They and the rest of the Weasleys, minus Ginny, had gone back to The Burrow, but since Ginny was still blissfully asleep (and apparently without nightmares this time), they had decided to leave her where she was. 

Charlie scooped up Leon, who had been in danger of falling out of Hermione's grip, and carted him off to bed, taking care not to wake him. He had been up far too late because he was slightly ill and had been crying; Anya, a little too worried about him, had allowed him to stay up and since then he had been remarkably well-tempered. 

Returning to the sitting room, Charlie woke the adults and sent them to bed, unwilling to listen to laments of stiff necks and aching backs the next day. Only then did he take time to wonder how the observation of the Death Eaters was going…

*

The Dark Lord and his cronies Apparated to the graveyard at precisely the stroke of twelve. They had probably met somewhere else prior to the summit, wanting to make a good impression (however far-fetched that might be to some). At the same time, another group appeared, generally taller, darker, and better built. They were not wearing masks, like the Death Eaters were, nor did they need them; they did not seem to have features at all, just a dark sort of emptiness about them that made Arabella's skin crawl.

Wormtail called the assembled masses to order, then passed the direction to his master.

Lord Voldemort walked forward slowly, then stood before the group, holding on to a tombstone for support. "Followers and visitors," he said, his voice somewhat lost in the darkness, "we have gathered here tonight for the union of our two forces in what is to be the battle to end all battles. Indeed, war would be a more appropriate word- the Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers must not be allowed to mock true magic any longer! You are all aware of the terms of this union. Step forward, Sheridon O'Devlin, and accept our invitation back to the world of the mortal- as something much more than any other man has ever been before."

The tallest of the dark shadows moved forward and bowed formally to the Dark Lord, who, to Arabella's extreme surprise, was also bent low to the ground. From behind him, there came another tall, thin shadow, this one holding the steaming goblet. He couldn't show his respect the way the Dark Lord and O'Devlin had due to the potion, but merely gave a deferential nod and held out the goblet. 

The shadow grasped it in both hands and bent its head low over it. The potion cast a strange red glow on his silhouette, as if it were alive. Then, awash with the red light, it tipped back its head and the goblet and downed the potion.

The figure that was Sheridon O'Devlin seemed to shake. The goblet fell from its hand, no longer necessary. An earsplitting howl broke the sudden silence and Arabella watched in horror as the features on the creature-

__

Man? Animal? Shade?

-began to shift. The man started to laugh. It sounded hollow, pained and entirely too sinister.

Thunder shook the earth and forked lightning split the sky. Arabella jerked forward and hit her head on the tombstone, feeling something warm and sticky on her hand when she reached up to inspect the damage. Knowing that she could do nothing until the Death Eaters were gone, she paid as much attention as she could to the Dark Lord and his kindred. Sheridon O'Devlin continued to tremble through his laughter, more steadily until he was shaking no more but rocking slowly back and forth. Even as she watched in horror it became less a shadow and more solid.

As something of a final touch, the fog swirling on the ground near O'Devlin twisted round and seeped into his clothing. O'Devlin stood tall, still laughing but now in a deep and (Arabella immediately regretted thinking) seductive way.

Lightning flashed once more, silently, in the distance. The enemy forces disappeared, leaving behind an air of confusion and despair.

In Azkaban, the Dementors stopped and laughed.

In his office, the Headmaster looked up from his paperwork, troubled.

At Dromore House, Ginny and Harry awoke from their nightmares.

*

It took her a moment to orient herself in the darkness, about the same moment she used to make sure that this nightmare, like the others, was not real. There were no Death Eaters there. There was no graveyard. The burning in her stomach began to subside as images of what she had seen fled her mind. Eventually the events of the previous night flooded back and she recognized the room she had been sleeping in as Anya Dickinson's sitting room.

After another few seconds, she realized that she was not alone in the room. Her pillow, for one thing, seemed to be Hermione. Someone was also sitting on her foot, and she had pins and needles all the way up her leg. Ron muttered something in his sleep and Ginny almost jumped out of her skin.

"Who else is awake?" Harry's voice came through the darkness on the other side of Ron.

"It's Ginny," she answered, hoping she sounded less afraid than she felt. "Sorry if I woke you."

"No, you didn't," Harry replied. "Bad dream is all." There was a rustling that could have been Harry rubbing his scar. 

"Oh. Same here." Ginny shifted around in the dark, unwilling to move but suddenly cold all over. "It's freezing in here," she said for the sake of conversation.

"There's an afghan on the back of the sofa," Harry suggested, smothering a yawn by the sound of things.

"Thanks." Ginny groped for it blindly and was about to give it a tug when a light flickered on in the kitchen. She could just hear a voice through the door.

"You're sure you're alright, Arabella?"

"Just a bump," another voice answered. "Go on and get the others- I'll make some tea."

Ginny thought it a bit strange that the other tenants should be coming home at such an hour, but decided not to break the silence to ask Harry about it. 

Harry, too, remained quiet, and ceased all audible movements as the man who had been speaking came through the sitting room. He passed through the doorway to Ginny's left and returned again a moment later with a man so tall that it could only be Sirius. Sirius made his way to the kitchen and disappeared from sight; Shadow-Man went to Ginny's right and collected three other forms from that wing of the house. They all went into the kitchen.

Ginny gave a last curious glance in Harry's direction, then got up and padded to the partially open door.

Carefully pressing her eye up against the crack, Ginny peered into the room beyond. At the table sat Charlie and a woman with long white hair that she didn't recognize. She had a gash on her forehead that led Ginny to the conclusion that she was Arabella. Also present were Anya, Sirius, Professor Lupin, and a man who matched the profile of Shadow-Man: the man who had gone to fetch the others.

"Mundungus," Anya was saying as she leaned over the old woman, tracing her wand across her forehead, "Maybe you'd better explain just what went on at this party of yours."

Mundungus shook his head slowly and began an exact recounting of Ginny's nightmare. She listened as if entranced to every word and was still spellbound when it was over.

Sirius spoke first. "So we're too late. They're back." He then said something that would have made Ginny's mother clap hands over her daughter's ears.

"Hush, Sirius," Anya placated calmly, finishing her Healing Spell. "It's not the end just yet. Charlie, could you hand me that bandage?" Charlie did so, blankly (at least to Ginny's eyes), and Anya smiled gently. "Thank you."

Sirius looked as if he were about to object to Anya's offhand rebuttal, then shook his head silently and took the door through to the dining room. Anya sighed heavily and looked to Professor Lupin for direction, but he only shrugged and gave an obvious glance towards the dining room. Anya sighed again and followed Sirius.

This left Ginny spying on Charlie, Professor Lupin, and two near-strangers. She didn't plan on keeping it that way, however, as she already had a good deal of food for thought. She backed slowly away from the door.

Her back hit something fairly solid and Ginny nearly screamed aloud. A hand covering her mouth prevented that much. "Sh!" Harry hissed in her ear. "Just me, remember?"

Ginny nodded, trying to keep her erratically beating heart from thumping so loudly. Harry released her, taking one huge step backwards as he did so. Ginny tried not to miss his warmth. "I'm just going to- lie back down again," she said, falling over her feet a bit and stumbling back to the sofa. She stifled the sigh she wanted to let out as Harry's shadow moved to the other door.

*

Her eyes followed him out of the room and beyond and she sighed heavily. Sirius was always so goddamn difficult. Anya turned a pleading gaze to Remus, hoping he was willing to sort his friend out, but he just shrugged and motioned that she should follow him. Exasperated, she left the room, pausing just inside the doorway. 

She could see his outline against the wall: he had his hands clasped behind his back and seemed to be examining one of her father's old wall-hangings. "Sirius?" she asked uncertainly, leaning lightly against a stout oak chair.

"I'm too late, aren't I?" she heard him ask quietly. "Too late to make much of a difference and nothing can be done about it now. This battle has already been lost."

"There was nothing to do in the first place," Anya pointed out. "Besides, you were needed here for Harry's birthday party. You would've felt worse if you'd missed that- no more guilt trips."

"You just missed the point," Sirius said mildly, and Anya could feel his wry smile in the darkness. "But I'll pretend I didn't notice."

"Very charitable of you," said Anya acerbically, "Now would you please explain further?"

"It's quite simple," Sirius said, and recited: "Our job is to keep tabs on the Death Eaters, who are making pacts in graveyards with Drifters, whose sole purpose of existence is to wreak havoc on the earth." Anya thought that Sirius himself was pretty good at wreaking havoc, but decided it was a bad time to interrupt. "Oh, but I forgot," Sirius continued, his tone acid, "They also like to kill Sidhe."

"I don't follow," Anya said, her voice near a growl. 

"I know, Anya," he said, deadly quiet. "I know about you and Leon- little half-bloods, great targets since all the Sidhe seem to be in hiding. Anyone could find out and come after you… and you never told me."

"Sirius, I've never tried to keep that a secret from you."

"Well, you did a damn good job of informing us all of your abilities," he growled. "I thought we were getting to the point where we could trust each other."

"I thought we were getting to the point where we respected each other," Anya shot back, annoyed. "I don't ask you about Azkaban." She was immediately sorry she'd brought it up, but it was too late to take it back. "I have my secrets, too." 

She watched as he flinched away from her, turning further into the darkness. Her gut wrenched. She hadn't meant to reopen old wounds, but now Sirius' barriers were down- for a moment she could see how scarred he really was; his shell was gone and truth laid bare. He looked miserable. "Some of my secrets are not what you'd expect, Anya." He opened the door and left through the sitting room.

*

Harry made it back to the couch in time to keep from being spotted. He was very nearly discovered anyway, because he'd sat on Ginny and very nearly scared the wits out of her again. He heard her clap a hand over her mouth.

The shadow that was Sirius retreated to his bedroom and Anya shut the dining room door firmly behind him. Harry snorted to himself despite the situation and pulled himself off of Ginny, trying not to wake whichever of his friends was sleeping to her left. "They're even worse than Ron and Hermione."

Ginny sounded amazed. "I heard some of that conversation- they must hate each other!"

Harry shook his head. "That's just it- they don't. They get along like a house on fire ninety-eight percent of the time. As for the two percent, when they fight, they put these two to shame." He gestured to the two sleeping teens. "Sometimes I think it would be better for all concerned if they did hate each other. When they get like this, all they end up accomplishing is making the other feel guilty."

"Very Ron and Hermione," Ginny admitted, sounding drowsy. "About the only time they get on is when they're sleeping."

"They're not much fun when they're sleeping," Harry whispered as Arabella and the rest of the gang closed their bedroom doors. "They have the right idea, though." He yawned. "G'night, Ginny."

"Good night," Ginny replied, blushing furiously and trying to banish images of other fairy-tale goodnights she used to dream of.

Something slumped against her arm. She jumped. The something gave a snort and snuggled into her knee.

Ginny looked down at it curiously. It had curly hair and was drooling a bit onto her leg. She thought for a moment that it might be a good idea to ask Harry if she was meant to go home…

But the thought left her, and sleep took her, and no nightmares haunted her sleep that night.

*

The days passed by quickly and unremarkably, save the unusual lack of Drifter activity, and before Charlie knew it August 30th was upon him. He made one last hurried trip to Diagon Alley to pick up a copy of _Magical Creatures and Where To Find Them_, and then he would be off on the early train to Hogwarts until Christmas.

This naturally meant a very difficult goodbye; he hadn't been away from Anya for more than two months at a time since he was eighteen years old.

There was a going away party at The Burrow; his friends and family wanted him to have a good time before he left. There was also some debate about whether they should take Harry and Leon with them or leave them at Dromore House, but that decision was an easy one to make and they both joined the party list.

By the time Charlie arrived at The Burrow, he was well aware that not only was he growing older, but entering a crucial stage of his life known as the mid-twenties. The next day was his birthday, and after July's events he felt every day of twenty-six.

Through the open window, Charlie could see that there were streamers hung up, as there had been at Harry's birthday, and various cakes and gifts on the table. Feigning nonchalance, Charlie grinned and pushed open the door.

Immediately he was assaulted by a small crowd of people, not the smallest of which was Ginny, who grabbed him around the waist and squeezed him tightly. "Happy birthday!"

Charlie smiled genuinely, but didn't get the chance to reply properly before Anya and Leon were upon him.

Awkwardly because of Leon, Anya planted a kiss on both of his cheeks. Leon tried to stick his fingers up Charlie's nose and squealed with delight when Charlie sneezed.

Eventually Molly managed to get everyone to gather in the living room, and finally Charlie got a chance to see who had turned up.

Aside from family, Anya and Leon included, there were only a few friends from the Order of the Phoenix. This was undoubtedly due to Sirius' presence, which Charlie had insisted upon. Sirius himself looked somewhat guilty; he probably thought that it was his fault that no more guests had showed up or something to that extent. Charlie thought it was unlikely that Jacques would fly out to see him for a day and fly back after, or even Apparate. It was getting increasingly difficult to tear him away from the dragons, especially Anita and Alonzo. Charlie understood that- leaving them behind had been hard for him, too.

Remus sat beside Sirius, his eyelids drooping. The full moon had been two weeks previously, but he'd been out on a reconnaissance mission the night before and hadn't gotten in until three in the morning. 

Fred and George were next; they looked, like always, as if they had a huge, destructive, dangerous secret they were about to let loose on everyone. Ginny had Leon in her lap and thus the attention of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were gathered around them. 

On the other side of the room, Percy was boring Bill with details of some Ministry matter or another. Poor Bill was trying desperately to escape and having very little success. Mr. Weasley was involved in a conversation with Amos Diggory and Daedalus Diggle. The rest of their team had gone missing in a very suspicious way and Charlie knew that Bill was still reeling from the loss of a few good friends. The remaining members were assigned to Charlie's team as a complementary unit.

Molly was monopolizing Anya in one corner of the room, and Arabella and Mundungus had just joined that conversation. The Burrow was suddenly a very busy place.

Feeling antisocial for sitting and observing a party that was for him, Charlie rose from his seat and decided to rescue Bill from Percy. "Excuse me, Perce," Charlie cut in, grabbing his older brother by the shoulder and steering him out of harm's way, "Confidential business- you know how it is."

"Of course I do," Percy replied, bristling at the mere suggestion that he might not 'know how it is.' "Just go about your little transaction- I've got work to do."

Bill made a face behind Percy's back as the younger brother Disapparated. "Thanks, Charlie. I owe you one."

"Don't mention it," Charlie said, smiling slightly. "I seem to remember you doing the same for me on multiple occasions." Bill didn't smile. Charlie winced inwardly- he knew the state he would be in if one of his team members went missing, let alone a third of them. Unconsciously she shot a glance at Anya. She had moved on to talking to Daedalus Diggle and looked as if she must've just gotten the same story, because she met his gaze even as he looked away. 

Bill, though, had apparently caught everything that the glance signified, because his manner changed enormously. He went from stoic and silent to afflicted and tired, and Charlie noticed for the first time the bags under his older brother's eyes. "You don't know how lucky you are."

Charlie shook his head. "Believe me, I do." Bill looked dubious, and Charlie easily sensed that he needed more than that to reassure him. "You know how they say you never know what you had until you've lost it?"

Bill nodded warily.

"Well, I lost it," Charlie told him. "And maybe I found it again, but it isn't the same anymore afterwards." He tried to smile and found that he couldn't. "But enough with the self-pity party. I'm going to be twenty-six tomorrow, and that's all the reason I need to get roaring drunk tonight."

"That I can handle," Bill said, grabbing something off the table. "This is Percy's gift- guess he was too busy to give it in person."

Charlie inspected the bottle. "Chinese Schnapps?" 

"Nope," Bill said, opening it with a pop. "It translates to something like 'Dragon's Blood' or 'Dragon's Breath' or something. Percy may be a stick in the mud, but he has good taste." He grabbed two glasses off of the table and handed one to Charlie, then poured one for himself. "Bottoms up."

"Wait, wait," Charlie said suddenly, not ready to get completely wasted just yet. "What shall we drink to?"

Bill seemed to think a moment; his eyes took on a faraway look. "To living life with no regrets," he eventually said.

Somewhat surprised, Charlie regarded his older brother with new eyes. Bill was scarred much deeper than he'd originally thought. "Yeah," he said after his pause. "Yeah, I'll drink to that."


	10. Adjustments and Second Thoughts

The Lion and the Unicorn __

The Lion and the Unicorn

Chapter Ten: Adjustments and Second Thoughts

In which nothing very important happens, aside from a few very small things that take up a very small part of the chapter.

*

__

A man is in love / How did I know?

He came walking with me / And he told me so

In a song that he sang / And then I knew-

A man is in love / With you

-A Man is In Love, _Waterboys_

*

See Chapter One for disclaimer.

Warning: This chapter has excessive innuendo. Tread carefully.

Oh yeah. It's also pretty long. You might want to get out your reading glasses.

*

Although Bill seemed perfectly willing to drink himself into a stupor, Charlie had no such plans. The party was for him, and he thought it might seem a bit ungrateful if he didn't remember any of it afterwards. Besides that fact, there were teacher-training courses in the morning.

Charlie took a good sip of the Dragon's blood and felt it burn its way down his throat. The stuff was strong- good, if a bit rough and fiery, but mostly just strong. Bill, although he could hold a lot more alcohol than Charlie, wasn't going to last for long against that bottle. Shaking his head and mentally composing a thank-you note to Percy, Charlie scooped up Leon from Ginny's lap (she looked bothered by him all of a sudden and Charlie had a bad moment where he thought Leon might have done a number in his diaper), and made his way over to Harry and Remus. Remus was leaning down just enough so that he could probably talk to Harry without anyone else overhearing.

"And what are you two plotting?" Charlie asked, taking in their guilty expressions with amusement.

"Nothing," they chorused, exchanging glances. Harry cracked a grin under Charlie's scrutinizing look; Remus did better, managing to hide the guilt Harry made obvious.

"Revenge," Charlie guessed, seeing Sirius a few paces away. "You've waited a whole month, Harry; congratulations."

Harry beamed. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Charlie replied, suppressing a grin. He didn't feel the least bit sorry for Sirius. "Want to let me in on the plan?"

"No," Remus answered. "Rest assured you'll have heard about it before tomorrow."

"Wonderful. Any last words before Sirius arranges your humorous demise?"

"Yeah," Remus replied. "Tell him 'gotcha.'"

Charlie let his smile surface and shifted Leon on his shoulder, who was wriggling in a way that meant he was either extremely uncomfortable or had way too much excess energy. "I'll do that." Leon just giggled even more and Charlie resigned himself to the fact that excess energy was, in fact, the problem and that Leon wasn't likely to quiet down any time soon. He set the pre-toddler on the floor. Activity seemed to give him a natural energy high, at least temporarily. By seven o'clock, he would be out like a light.

Casting a glance across the room, Charlie saw Bill leaning heavily on a wary-looking Anya. It was painfully obvious that Bill was intoxicated (drunk, that was; Charlie had a feeling that Bill had wanted more than a professional relationship with one of his missing colleagues). Deciding that his brother needed a place to sleep off the alcohol, Charlie looked down at Leon. "Maybe we'd better save him from himself, what do you- ack!"

Leon, in his attempt to gain attention, had latched on to Charlie's trousers to pull himself upright. Still babbling 'shashasha' nonsense, Leon turned to where Sirius was standing a few meters away and headed for him as if someone had lit a fire under his behind.

__

Well, I'll be damned. "Sirius," Charlie called across the room. "Turn around. Slowly."

He did so, looked at Charlie, and shrugged. It was obvious that he had no idea what Charlie was so worked up about. Then he looked down and spotted Leon (who was still wobbling over) and started to laugh. "Where's Anya?"

"I'm here," she said, appearing at his elbow. Sirius jumped, then resumed grinning down at the boy. 

With one last wobbly step, Leon latched on to Sirius' leg. Triumphantly, he announced, "Shashasha," and raised his arms in a wordless demand to be pampered by Sirius.

Charlie grinned at Sirius' hopeless response- he had no chance against Leon's baby charms- and went to go rescue Bill from himself and Fred, who was having way too much fun with his eldest brother's drunken state. 

*

The rest of the party was uneventful as far as Weasley birthday parties went, and before Charlie knew it, it was time to leave. He said good-bye to his siblings and parents and the Dromore House residents took the Floo home. (Some of them had had far too much alcohol to think about Apparating.) Sirius had carried Leon (he'd refused to be put down after he had displayed his walking prowess); Remus was obviously dead tired; Mundungus had to lean on the wall for support; and Arabella was stumbling to bed much the same way Bill had earlier that evening. 

Anya stood, fidgeting, between Charlie and the corridor that led to his bedroom. "Well," she said, not looking directly at him, "have a good time at Hogwarts, Charlie."

"Thanks," Charlie answered, feeling just as awkward. "Take care of yourself while I'm gone, and I'll see you around Halloween…"

"Don't forget to write," Anya told him quietly, then smiled weakly and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," Charlie whispered, but she was already gone down the hall to her bedroom.

*

The Hogwarts Express was just rolling in to platform nine and three-quarters when Charlie pushed his stuff through the gate. The platform itself was busier with more witches and wizards than Charlie had ever seen it- clearly the population of wizarding England wanted to get its shopping done in Hogsmeade before it was overrun with school-age children. Charlie scanned the crowd as he walked. There were people he had met through his father and a small group of witches he vaguely remembered from his Hogwarts days, a bunch of stiff-looking businessmen he'd never seen before, and a few witches and wizards he recognized as fellow professors. Charlie was just about to join Professors Flitwick and Sinistra in what was no doubt a very interesting conversation-

BAM. Charlie was knocked ass-over-teakettle, flat onto his back. "Ouch." He really should start watching where he was going. "I'm sorry-" he brushed himself off, then immediately began stacking luggage back onto the other cart. "I'm not usually this distracted-" He looked up to smile apologetically at whomever he'd run into and found that she was still on the ground. Charlie reached over and offered her a hand up, which she accepted readily.

"It's all right," she assured him, brushing soot off of her bright green robes. "You're not the only one who wasn't watching where he was going." She raised her head and smiled at him. 

The fact that she had to raise her head to smile at him said something. This woman, Charlie realized, was extraordinarily short. She had chaotic orange hair and a more than generous smattering of freckles; emerald eyes stared out at him from under pumpkin-colored eyebrows. Charlie grinned. Maybe teaching would have more perks than he had originally thought. 

The woman stumbled a bit, and Charlie reached out to steady her, wondering if she'd hit her head harder than he'd thought. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Just fine," she answered, running a hand through her orange tangles. "I just need to get on my train and to that stupid conference." She had an odd lilt to her voice when she spoke, not an Irish or Scottish accent, but something altogether different.

"So where are you headed?" he asked her, hoping he sounded rather more casual than he felt.

She made a face. "Hogwarts. I'm supposed to spend a year there as a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor or I can't claim my multi-million Galleon inheritance."

Charlie blinked. He hadn't been expecting that. "Er…"

"No," she said, grinning. "My dad's an American Muggle and my mum's a Dutch seamstress, and neither of them has ever heard of Hogwarts before."

__

Which explains the accent, at least. "So you're the Defense professor," Charlie said with a smile. "Well, good luck to you. The last four teachers in your position have left you quite the legacy of weirdness to live up to."

"So I've heard," she answered, still grinning. "I guess I ought to introduce myself. I'm Chloë Sanderson."

"Nice to meet you," Charlie said, wondering if he would catch fire if he shook her hand. He risked it, and felt no physical pain. Apparently she'd gotten that sunburn from the sun rather than from some inner heat. "I'm Charlie Weasley, the CoMC replacement."

"Oh, you're the one Dumbledore was talking about!" Chloë exclaimed. "Dragon-man. Always thought you'd be taller."

__

Funny, Charlie thought. _Dumbledore didn't say a thing about you_. He sighed inwardly. Why did everyone seem to think that dragonkeepers had to be tall? "I wouldn't make short jokes if I were you," he advised, covering his mild annoyance with a smile. 

"Point taken," she conceded. "I don't suppose you know when this teacher conference thing is supposed to start?"

Charlie checked his watch. "In about an hour, in the dining car," he answered.

"Great, thanks."

They sat there in near-silence a few moments longer, not looking at each other. At least, Charlie was trying not to look at Chloë. She had a perfect line of freckles straight down her nose that he couldn't stop staring at. The silence lasted about two minutes until Charlie's restraint wore off.

"You have me at a disadvantage," he finally commented, fixing on one frizzy orange curl instead of on those damned freckles.

"Oh?" she asked without interest, staring out the window.

"You do. Dumbledore's told you about me, but I haven't heard a thing about you."

Chloë blinked twice, apparently startled out of some sort of reflection, flushed beneath her sunburn, and raised an eyebrow. "What's there to know?"

"I guess I can't answer that until you tell me."

The other eyebrow went up, too. "I highly doubt that you want to hear all the details of my devastatingly boring, normal, Muggle childhood."

"Well, maybe not," Charlie conceded, not ready to give up making conversation just yet. "But I'd bet you have some fairly good stories involving accidental misuse of magic."

An unreadable expression crossed her face. "Maybe a few, but-" She looked uncomfortable. Interesting.

"Sorry," Charlie said. "You probably want to start with something less personal. Let me guess- an only child?"

Chloë shook her head. "Oldest of two, by about ten years. I was at school while Michael was growing up, so there was no real time for him to pry into my life. I suppose you're blessed with five siblings?"

"Six, actually," Charlie said. "Five brothers and a sister, so I'm used to intrusive questions. But you were close."

She shrugged. "So were you. What's your advice for dealing with the bombardment of questions I'm sure we'll receive from a staff full of veterans who are sure to big-brother us?"

"Lie. Lie to everyone about everything. Practice in the mirror. Learn to lie so well, even your own mother couldn't tell if you were or not."

"Lying to Mum never works," Chloë said somewhat wistfully.

"Well, no," Charlie admitted. "Mum knows all, sees all. But that's beside the point. Frankly, I think that anything any of the staff asks you that doesn't have to do with credentials or state of mind is a waste of your time and none of their business, not to mention irrelevant. In fact, they probably don't care about your state of mind. I bring to your attention the last four Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers…"

"Yet here I feel like I'm part of the Inquisition. By your logic, shouldn't you butt out?"

"Logic? What logic? I resent the implication that logic has any bearing whatsoever on anything I say or do. Besides, I'm making it my business."

"Make it your business later, smart aleck. We're missing our conference."

*

"Do you have to look like that?" Sirius asked, unable to concentrate on his music due to the distraction in front of him. Of course, part of the problem was that Remus had been assigned to go as backup for Hagrid's negotiations with the giants, and so was not there to distract him from the distraction. "The world is not going to fall apart because Charlie Weasley isn't here with you. You can survive a few months without him."

Anya sighed, probably about to tell Sirius that he didn't understand, but apparently thought better of it. She knew that he understood, and she knew that he knew that knowing that didn't make it any easier. "I know I can," she answered. "It's just that I haven't had to for almost seven years."

Sirius raised his eyebrows and adjusted Leon on his lap. "That long?"

Anya shook her head. "Not since our somewhat messy breakup, and if you look at it a certain way, even that was easy." She looked at him forlornly. "I suppose you're going to want the whole story now."

Still reeling from the revelation that Anya and Charlie had once _had_ a relationship, Sirius decided that jumping to conclusions was not good for one's mental health. "Well, I must admit that you've got my attention, but I get the impression you're not too thrilled at the prospect of talking about it."

"No, it's okay." She sighed, as if she wasn't terribly convinced of that herself. "It's about time I talked about it, anyway."

"Well, if you're sure," Sirius said, not about to discourage her. He set Leon down in his baby swing and flopped down on the opposite end of the couch from Anya. "Whenever you're ready."

Looking anything but sure, Anya picked up a cushion and hugged it to her chest. "I first met Charlie a little more than eight years ago, in the one-year training camp for dragonkeepers in Scotland. I graduated early, and because I had arrived a few months before Charlie, only barely knew him when I left for Romania. They put me in charge of a small cabin full of training keepers and I loved the job- lots of control over people and very little over circumstances in general- a good combination for a very interesting life."

"And that was eight years ago?" Sirius frowned. He knew that Anya was a few years older than Charlie, and most wizards chose their profession long before they even graduated from Hogwarts. "What did you do before that?"

"Oh, this and that," Anya said evasively, keeping clear of both his gaze and his question. She plucked at the fabric on the pillow. "Anyway, when Charlie showed up a few months later, the powers that be stuck him in my cabin."

"And you just happened to go from cabin-mates to bedmates because it seemed like a good idea at the time?" he asked, deciding to let her more mysterious past lie dormant a bit longer. 

Anya laughed, but didn't sound amused. "Hardly. Between the six-year age difference- which seems like a lot more when one of you is nineteen- and the fact that at the time, I was practically Charlie's direct superior, sleeping together seemed like a very bad idea." She paused a moment, considering. "And then there's the fact that I was particularly volatile at that stage of my life…"

Sirius coughed a bit, trying to hide his laughter. "Volatile? You? As in, Anya Dickinson volatile? And Charlie's still alive?!"

"Hey, do you want to hear the story or don't you?"

Sirius decided to shut up about the 'volatile' business for a while. "Sorry. What did Charlie do?"

"Well, Charlie ended up spending as much time wooing me as he did convincing one of the younger dragons that he was not snack food, and eventually both paid off."

"Uh huh. And then what happened?"

Anya shrugged, looking still less comfortable than she had a few minutes ago. "I wasn't in love with him."

__

Ouch. Talk about direct. "So then you decided to split up?"

She nodded. "He took all of his remaining vacation, and then I took mine. Simple."

"I guess." Sirius paused, feeling like he was forgetting something. "And you've never talked to Charlie about this?"

She had the nerve to look guilty. "Actually, I sort of forbade him from talking about it to anyone at all, especially me. I didn't want him to say things that would ruin our friendship."

"That sounds reasonable, if a little extreme. No wonder the poor guy has issues."

"Charlie's issues are not my fault. They are a direct result of what happened afterwards."

"Oh really?"

"But you'll have to ask Charlie about his passionate rebound-affair with Erica Yudelman."

"Aww." Sirius pouted. "Can't you give me the tiniest clue?"

"Well," Anya said, leaning in closer, "it was certainly passionate."

"Mm-hmm." A wordless request for more information.

"I think I caught the two of them going at it in just about every part of the compound."

"How long were they together?"

"Roughly speaking? About two weeks."

Sirius chuckled. "So what happened there?"

"Like I said, you'll have to ask Charlie. Now, though, I think it's my turn to ask you prying questions about your torrid love affairs."

"Fair enough," Sirius conceded. "I'll warn you that there's not much to tell. Being in prison kind of puts a crimp in your sex life."

"That's not what I heard."

"Funny. Are you going to give me the third degree about my ever-so-intriguing past, or aren't you?"

"Oh, definitely."

"Great," Sirius said, now apprehensive. "Fire away."

Anya gave him her most innocent look. "How long has it been since you got some?"

Her question caught him so completely off-guard that, had he been eating anything, he might have choked to death while she laughed at the expression of utter incredulity on his face. "What?!"

"You heard me- how long since you last, you know, did the horizontal monkeydance?"

"Horizontal monkeydance?"

"You're avoiding my question, Mr. Black."

"So would you, if you'd been in prison or a fugitive for the past fourteen years."

"So? How long?"

"Tell you later," Sirius said, and took off out of the room about as fast as his legs would carry him.

*

With Sirius gone, it was fairly safe for Anya to get out the sheets she needed for the Pettigrew case. Essentially, it was her job to decide how much the public- and the rest of the Ministry- should know about the Potters' Secret-Keeper and his past activities. 

Of course, essentials aside, studying Peter Pettigrew's file meant that she also had the complete files for Lily and James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin.

Potter and Lupin had no criminal record to speak of, in fact the only reason Remus had any file at all was because he was a werewolf. Lily and James had both been Aurors and members of the Order of the Phoenix, not to mention the parents of the Boy Who Lived; there was plenty of material on them, although most of it was fairly dry.

The most fascinating and useful file, however, belonged to Sirius Black. Records of prison activity, transcripts of visits with the Minister of Magic as well as his first few nights in Azkaban, everything. Anya learned it all by heart, from the make, model and license plate of his motorbike to the exact classification of the personality disorders the Azkaban psychiatrists had diagnosed him with.

This left Anya with something of a problem. A case against Pettigrew could not be launched if he weren't present. The case against Sirius Black, however, could be reopened, he could be retried, a new verdict could be found, and a warrant issued for Pettigrew's arrest. But to achieve that, Anya would not only have to break Sirius' trust in her, but she would have to expose her past. Which was not a great idea, considering. But…

She sighed and tossed a handful of Floo powder into the no-heat flames in the fireplace. "Minister Dobson? I'd like a word."

A few moments later, the Minister of Magical Law's head was in her living room. Anya had already locked the doors so that Sirius couldn't get in. "Hello, Anya," Dave said amiably, grinning tiredly. "What can I do for you?"

"Sir, it's about the Pettigrew business-"

"Is that your jurisdiction now?" Dobson asked. "I suppose with Kent out on maternity leave…"

"Yes, sir," Anya replied. Pathetic. Ten years ago, he was the one who was answerable to her and subject to her wrath, and now she had to suck up to _him_. "Well, obviously we can't try Pettigrew for anything- first of all, we can't find him anymore, and secondly, there's no evidence against him."

"Which leads you to what conclusion, Anya?"

"Sir, I was reviewing the files that came with Pettigrew's, and I noticed some discrepancies from what is believed to be the truth…"

"And?" Dobson prompted.

Anya took a deep breath, fully aware of what she was getting in to. "Sir, I think we made a mistake when we convicted Sirius Black."

"Really?" Dave didn't seem surprised. "What evidence is there of that?"

"Things just don't match up, sir. I've read the transcript of Black's ravings his first night in Azkaban, and it clearly indicates Black's innocence. He also mentioned more than once that it was Peter Pettigrew who betrayed the Potters and blew up that Muggle street fourteen years ago."

"Where did the transcript come from?"

"It was in the attached file, sir."

"No," Dave amended, "I mean, how was it recorded? Standard Azkaban Quick Quotes Quill?"

"Yes, sir," Anya answered, cringing. "But with all due respect, Azkaban QQQs are attuned to Dementors. They can't be tampered with one way or another."

"I know that, but I'm not the one you have to convince," Dobson reminded her. "Besides, everyone's first night in Azkaban brings him close to insanity. You can't prove that what Black said was true."

"Sir, I'm sure you remember as well as I do that it is impossible to lie in the presence of a Dementor. And that Sirius Black is about the only one who _didn't_ go insane-"

"All right," Dave conceded finally. "I guess you've made your point. But it's still not me you have to convince."

"I know, sir, but thank you. I appreciate that you've taken the time to listen to me."

Dave shook his head wearily. "What the hell are you doing in public relations, Dickinson? We could use you over here in the legal department- you know the rules better than I ever did."

"I like it here," Anya replied honestly. "But thank you for the compliment, sir. I'll let you go write up that report."

Dobson gave a nod of acknowledgement and, with a _pop_, was gone.

*

Flash. Click. Blink. "Ow." Sirius waved at the spots before his eyes. "You could have warned me."

Anya, tucking the camera back into the camera bag, grinned insolently. "Where's the fun in that? Besides, the two of you looked so cute together."

"Three," Sirius corrected absently, setting Leon down on the floor.

"Whatever." Anya didn't understand his insistence that the piano had a mind of its own. Then again, he spent twelve times the amount of time playing it as she did. "Isn't Leon a bit young to be learning piano?"

Sirius looked scandalized. "I was his age when I started!"

"I bet your parents just loved that."

"I did not have the world's most normal parents. They adored it when I made noise."

"Liar."

"Guilty," Sirius admitted, laughing. "Why can't I lie to you? Remus is the only other one that picks up on it like that."

"Leon is giving you his look," Anya explained. "He only does that when someone is doing something dishonest."

Sirius glanced down at Leon, his expression hurt. "You gave it away! I thought that we were buddies."

"Besides," Anya said, "you've obviously never been a parent if you think a lie like that could pass inspection. Anyway, I've got work to do. Can you handle the kid, or is it naptime for the both of you?"

"I can handle him, don't worry about it. You can have him back later. Intact, even."

"So kind of you. I'll be in my office if you need me."

"I'll call you if Leon blows up the piano."

"Shut up."

*

Harry stayed at Ron's house for the last two days of summer vacation, hiding from Sirius, who wasn't terribly thrilled that he would look exactly like Severus Snape for two days. On September first he traveled with the Weasleys in their blue Ford Anglia to King's Cross Station.

At first glance, Hogwarts looked exactly as he had left it. The lake was clear, the sky was blue, the air was crisp, and the castle hadn't changed. Harry doubted that castles changed much in general, since Hogwarts was almost exactly as it had appeared on the cover of _The Very First History of Hogwarts_, which Hermione had insisted on yammering in his ear about. Apparently it was a fascinating leaflet on how Hogwarts had been built and by whom and the cost of such a venture. Of course, Hermione was the only one who called it a leaflet. It had three hundred seventy-five pages. Harry had no idea about most of it; he hadn't been listening since Hermione had mentioned 'history.'

About the only thing that was different about the grounds was the perimeter, which was now being patrolled by a group of Junior Aurors. At their head was Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, which reminded Harry once again that even Hogwarts wasn't completely safe.

Inside the Great Hall, when Hermione was, mercifully, silent, she, Harry, and Ron took their usual seats at the Gryffindor table and waited for the Sorting to begin. 

"Oh, look," Hermione said, pointing to the Head Table. "There's your brother, Ron. And beside him- that must be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. I wonder what she's like."

She? They'd never had a female DADA professor before. Harry looked up at the teachers' table, waved at Charlie, and searched for a new face. He found her to Charlie's left- a woman with very green eyes, very orange hair, and a very bad sunburn. Had her hair been a less vibrant shade and her skin been whiter, she might have reminded Harry of his mother.

"Yeah," Ron said, noting her presence with the kind of cursory glance that meant he was more interested in what food would soon appear on his plate. "Hope she's better than the last teacher we had," he added under his breath to Harry.

Harry nodded in response. None of the other students knew that the previous year, a Death Eater named Barty Crouch, Jr., had infiltrated Hogwarts disguised as the man who was supposed to be their teacher.

Across the table, Ginny Weasley eyed her brother with a curious sort of expression, then turned her attention to Professor McGonagall, who was calling the new first years up to be Sorted.

"Anderson, Nicholas."

"Ravenclaw!" That table burst into applause. Harry tried not to look at them; his onetime crush, the girl who had been Cedric Diggory's girlfriend, was in Ravenclaw.

"Breault, Rachel!"

"Hufflepuff!" Harry watched as that team applauded and waited for the next student to be called.

"Do you notice something about the first years?" Hermione asked suddenly, pulling Harry's attention away from Chang, Yulan, who became a Gryffindor.

"They're really short," Ron said, and shrugged. "They're first years. So?"

"They're all wearing bracelets," Hermione said, skipping the scathing look she was undoubtedly about to give Ron and instead cheering for DiMenna, Elisabeth Ann, who had just taken the seat across from Yulan. "See? The ones still in the line have white bracelets, but once they're Sorted-"

Now that Hermione had mentioned it, Harry began to notice it for himself. On the left wrist of every first year was a thin white band. Maverick, Alison's, under the Sorting Hat, was rapidly flicking between blue and gold. Finally it settled on blue and the Hat shouted, "Ravenclaw!"

"I get it," said Harry. "Some sort of identification band?"

"But why only the first years?" Ron asked. "And- wait a minute, I take that back. I am _not_ wearing a bracelet for the rest of the year. Even if it's red."

"Not that you'd have much of a choice," Harry pointed out. "It seems like-"

But Harry never got a chance to say what it seemed like, because Dumbledore stood, calling for silence. Compared with his manner when Harry first met the man, he now seemed impossibly sober and ancient. With what Harry suspected was injected cheer, he began his traditional opening speech. "Greetings and welcome back to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft ad Wizardry. For those of you who don't yet know, I am Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster here at Hogwarts."

"He doesn't look well, does he?" Hermione whispered into the brief pause. Even Ron, who idolized Dumbledore, didn't disagree with her.

"Now, I'm sure most of you know the rules, but I am going to go through them one more time to refresh your memories. If you're new to the school, you may want to take notes. I will tolerate absolutely no rule-breaking this year."

"He says that every year," Ron pointed out. "It's never stopped us before."

"Yeah, but this year he _means_ it," Harry whispered back.

"One: no magic in the corridors. Two: do not linger outside your dormitories. Three: the Forbidden Forest is still one-hundred percent strictly forbidden. Anyone caught there will be expelled on sight. Four: be in the castle by seven p.m., and in your dormitories by eight-thirty. Finally," Dumbledore punctuated this with an upward swish of his wand and brought it sparkling down through the air, "don't take these off. Ever." He sat down, looking defeated. "Bon appetit."

Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged and became immediately interested with his food. 

Hermione gave him a longer glance and raised her left wrist, wondering. On it was a thin red bracelet.

*

September second dawned with unexpected suddenness. All at once the sky lit with the sort of fiery glow that befit a dragon's funeral pyre; the sun blazed on the horizon and light spread across the grounds of the old school.

Charlie observed all of this from his vantage point on the roof of Gryffindor Tower. Supreme anxiety had awoken him early from a food-induced almost-coma and, as he had done before Quidditch matches since his Hogwarts days, he had flown his broom up to the top to clear his head. Now it was nearly time for breakfast, though, and others would certainly be awake. 

Summoning his broomstick from where it rested against the eaves, Charlie leapt from the roof and flew down to the ground to prepare for his first day as a teacher.

*

"Good morning, class," Charlie said, managing to sound rather more cheerful than he had intended. First impressions always did go badly. "My name is Charlie Weasley, and I will be your Care of Magical Creatures professor this year. You can call me Professor Weasley if you want to, but seeing as four of my siblings are in my classes, it may just be easier on everyone if you call me Charlie."

The assembled twenty-odd students regarded him silently. Ron, Harry, and Hermione grinned encouragingly at him from the front row on the grass; the rest of the class Charlie didn't know well enough to make assumptions about. Undaunted, he continued. "Because it's my first class and the first class after summer break, I'd like to spend it getting to know you and what you expect from this course. That means less work for me and more enjoyable classes for you," he said. "Please state your name, house, and least favorite food."

"Er," said the girl he was pointing at, pushing her glasses up higher on her nose, "Sarah Mallott, from Hufflepuff. I hate peas."

"Nice to meet you, Sarah," Charlie said amiably. "Next?"

"Jenna Myers, Slytherin. I don't eat cabbage."

"Welcome to my class, Jenna," Charlie responded quickly, not willing to subject himself to old House prejudices. 

Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, both in Gryffindor, giggled when he called on them and eventually announced that Lavender was a vegetarian and Parvati disliked beans. There were two Ravenclaws, a boy and a girl, both with glasses. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan both hated Brussels's Sprouts. Two sexless, lumpish Slytherins (Crabbe and Goyle, Charlie thought, how appropriate) took several moments to decide that they didn't know of any food they hated. Charlie privately thought that neither would notice if you fed it shoe leather instead of pudding. Then there was a problem.

His name, Charlie discovered from Ron's disgusted look, could only be Draco Malfoy, which meant Slytherin, of course. "Well?" he finally had to ask. "Are you going to introduce yourself, or do we have to guess?"

"Draco Malfoy," the boy fairly growled. Charlie wondered which owl had shat in Draco's porridge or, barring that, if it was just difficult to force words out around the perpetual scowl he was wearing.

"House?" Charlie prompted.

"Slytherin, of course," Draco retorted snootily.

"Of course," Charlie echoed. "Now, if you'd be so kind as to enlighten us as to your least favorite food…"

Draco folded his arms.

Charlie said, "I could always have you sent to your Head of House for not cooperating in class…"

Draco snorted. "Have you _met_ Professor Snape, Weasley?" A few other Slytherins laughed.

"That's Charlie to you. And I could send you to the Headmaster, then. Or I could just dock you enough marks that you fail my class. How'd that be? _The_ Draco Malfoy- any Malfoy, in fact- not acing a class taught by a Weasley-"

Draco mumbled something. Charlie stopped in mid-tirade. "Come again?"

"It's caviar," Draco repeated, red-faced. Charlie smiled to himself. The kid was easier to crack than he'd counted on. As he turned his attention to the last few students, he thought he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Draco Malfoy almost smiling.

Maybe teaching wouldn't be so bad, after all.

*

Teaching was a bad, bad idea.

This was Ginny's original impression when she'd heard that Charlie would be going to school with her, instructing her in one of her favorite courses.

Extra attention was not generally something Ginny wanted. Although she had developed the habit of talking until people stopped listening and beyond, she generally clamed up around groups of people she didn't know, especially after that incident in first year. When she knew the answers in class, which was often, due to Hermione's influence and the general reading habit Ginny had developed at twelve, she preferred to wait for someone else to be picked on to raising her hand and volunteering the answer. She rarely chatted with any of her lab partners; they were usually shy admirers from other houses, which she well knew but chose not to acknowledge.

But then, she reflected, not all attention was bad. In fact, it was sort of nice when the three other fourth-year Gryffindor girls she didn't know well (the only girl in her dorm that Ginny had regularly spoken to, Jaina, had transferred out of Hogwarts) commandeered her after class and made her a member of their little group. Of course, what they really wanted was a close-up, insider's look at their new Care of Magical Creatures professor. But that was okay. She was sure that, once they knew her, they wouldn't ditch her.

So maybe Charlie teaching wasn't such a bad idea, after all.

*

Teaching, Chloë decided, probably wasn't the ideal profession for someone with a major in being a klutz. The first part of her second day had gone over all right. She had had the first period free, and then a class of fifth-year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. They were alright- a little distracted, maybe, but then, they were teenagers, after all. One of the Gryffindors must have been Charlie's youngest brother, because the flaming red hair matched perfectly. The only problem had been the constant daydreaming of Katya Stevenson, a Ravenclaw. At least, the only problem caused by a student.

The class had known all their curses surprisingly well, and there was little more she could teach them that fit into their curriculum that year. However, they were almost six months behind learning about Dark creatures, thanks to the disaster caused by the previous teacher. Using her wand, she had conjured holograms of various creatures and given them a briefing, but they would need to confront the real thing to pass the year. She had some supplies to order- or scrounge up, as the case might be. 

At any rate, she'd been exhausted by the end of her first class. Casting that many Hologram Charms would do that to you.

Unfortunately, they'd also caused her wand to superheat, and when she set it down on her desk it had burst into flames. Luckily for her, Charlie had been walking by at the time, seen the smoke, and knew a lot of Extinguishing Charms. The wand was all right, too.

Chloë sighed. She was already exhausted and it was only the second day. Maybe teaching hadn't been such a great idea, after all.

*

__

Sept. 09

Dear Charlie,

It's been a week and you've only written one owl. That is not acceptable behavior, young man. Even Remus is beating you; Padfoot and I each got one yesterday. You'd better shape up.

That said, how's the teaching going? Has the Malfoy kid given you any more trouble? Padfoot says the whole family is trouble. I guess you'd better watch out with that one. Also, you didn't tell me much about this Chloë person. Purposely, I suspect. You know how it goes: almost everyone hears what you say; friends listen to what you say. Best friends listen to what you don't say. Spill.

Leon continues talking up a storm, although now recognizable words are getting thrown in with the questionable ones. This morning he said both 'Pafoo' and 'eat.' He definitely takes after his father. I can't get him to stop calling me 'Mama.' 

M. and A. send their regards, but they are far too busy at the Ministry to write on their own. There was some reported… activity… in Ireland last week and they're spending all their waking hours trying to figure out what's going on before it's too late to do anything about it. Padfoot has been doing what he can from here, but it's not the same when you aren't … human. Damn, I'm not very good at the whole keep-things-anonymous business.

Anyway, I miss you; see you at Halloween.

Anya

Charlie smiled to himself. Some things never changed. Anya would always mother him. Which was sort of creepy, when he thought about it in depth, so he didn't. It was easier that way, anyway.

A commotion somewhere in the Great Hall saved him from his self-pity. Strange, since Dumbledore had announced the Halloween Ball two nights previously, the Great Hall had been conspicuously quiet at mealtimes. This excepted, of course, random outbreaks of the giggles among the ranks of the fourth and fifth year girls, and a good deal of snickering and raucous behavior on the part of the less mature males. There had been some debate as to whether or not a Halloween Ball would be too much of a temptation for Voldemort to resist, but in the end it was decided, nearly unanimously, that the students needed the morale boost. Being the youngest two teachers, Charlie and Chloë had been given the unofficial responsibility of morale officers and put in charge of organizing the event.

Peering overtop of Professor Flitwick to see what all the commotion was about, Charlie noticed a group of chattering fifth-year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff girls clustered around one sixth-year Gryffindor he didn't recognize. At least, eighty percent of the girls were boisterous. The other twenty percent, a girl he recognized from one of his classes, seemed to be examining her toes, the tablecloth, or just about anything except the boy. He smiled. Some girls were so transparent.

"It's not polite to stare," Chloë pointed out, snapping him out of his reverie. 

"Sorry," he apologized. "People-watching has become a hobby. It's probably unhealthy."

"Probably," Chloë agreed, taking a sip of her milk and sloshing a bit on the table. She sighed and flicked her wand at it to absorb the mess. "Any ridiculous ideas for the ball yet?"

"No," Charlie sighed, casting a thoughtful glance down at the parchment by his plate. "It's on my sister's birthday. I hope it doesn't ruin it for her."

"She seems so quiet, compared to the rest of you. What happened?"

"She grew up the youngest of seven," Charlie answered lamely. There was no reason people outside the family needed to know about the Chamber of Secrets. Of course, being a teacher, Chloë would find out soon enough. "I imagine she got told to shut up a lot at home. Besides, for the record, she talks rather a lot when she's around people she knows well. She could talk the ear off of an elephant." Unconsciously, he shifted his gaze to the Gryffindor table where Ginny was engaged in a lively conversation with one of the girls from his Care of Magical Creatures class. "See what I mean?"

Chloë nodded. "I wish she was more outspoken in class- she's really very bright, but doesn't like to be put on the hot seat."

"Does anyone?" Charlie retorted. "At least she pays attention in class."

"You've been having that problem, too?"

"It's been worse since Dumbledore told them about the ball. Everyone's daydreaming and talking in class all of a sudden." He sighed. "And I feel so old for resenting it." Which wasn't exactly true. He didn't feel _very _old. He was having bizarre almost-flashbacks to his time as a student, though. "Ten years ago it was me that was goofing off in class."

"I don't doubt it." She smiled. "I guess you never get what you expected."

"Hardly." He peered over Flitwick again and found that the overloud group of gigglers had dispersed, thankfully. Most students were beginning to file out of the Great Hall. Ginny and what Charlie supposed passed for the rest of her 'crowd' were gone, too. "I've got to go- new responsibilities, you know." He made a face, but grinned to show he didn't mean anything by it. "I'll see you around."

*

"Please, Alicia?" George begged, turning up the charm and using his big, brown, puppy-dog eyes to his advantage.

Alicia looked away momentarily, but only momentarily. She stared him directly in the face and enunciated clearly, "I'm sorry, Fred. I don't have time this year for Quidditch. You'll have to find someone else."

"First of all," George said, mildly irritated that she'd mixed him up with his younger twin, "I'm George. Second of all," he got back on his knees, "Please? Please reconsider? Gryffindor needs you!"

"Sorry, George," Alicia corrected herself. "You've still got Angelina and Katie and the rest of the team. But I have to cut back on extracurricular activities if I plan on getting my N.E.W.Ts. That means no more Quidditch. I'm sorry, but that's the way it's got to be."

"Please?"

"Yeah, please?" Fred echoed, appearing behind his twin with Angelina at his side. She nodded in agreement. 

"No," Alicia said, and meant it.

"Bollocks," Angelina exclaimed, flopping down in a chair. "Now I'll need to hold Quidditch tryouts for Chaser and Keeper. Will you at least help with that, Alicia? After all, you'd be best qualified to choose your replacement."

"Of course," Alicia conceded. "Have you made a signup sheet? Who did we have on reserve?"

"Jade Coulter," Angelina said with a sigh. "He graduated last year."

"Naturally." There was a moment of pure silence, and then- "Where did Fred and George go?"

Angelina shook her head. "I don't think I want to know."

*

Two days later, Angelina stared at the signup list in disbelief. No less than fifty names were entered in, all in different handwritings and colors. She showed it to Alicia and Katie. 

Katie did a double-take. "This can't be right."

"Obviously," Alicia agreed. "Tryouts start tomorrow at seven, and if all of these people show up, we'll be there holding them until the end of next week!" She scanned through the first few names. "Oh, no."

"What?" Katie asked, immediately curious.

"Angelina, you didn't get the twins to help you with this list, did you?"

"No…" Angelina answered, a bit confused and very wary. "Why?"

Alicia pointed to the third name down on the list. "I doubt very much that there's a sixth year floating around named 'C. Nary Crème.'" She smiled. "The problem will be figuring out how many of these are made up."

Katie sighed. "I guess we'd better get to work."

*

Harry flew over the Quidditch pitch, trying not to shiver too much. It was unusually chilly for September, and that morning there had been a heavy frost on the ground. Now the grass was slippery, not ideal for smooth takeoffs, but it didn't matter. He needed the practice to clear his head; Sirius hadn't been forthcoming with details in his letters but Harry wasn't blind or stupid; he knew when his godfather was keeping things from him. It was all he could do not to ask too many questions. He was almost too distracted to wave to Hermione, who was watching from the stands, her winter cloak wrapped tightly around her.

Down below him, he heard Angelina holler, and swooped back down to land on the ground. This year he was to have an active part in the tryouts; he was no longer a junior member of the team and although Angelina was the Captain and had final say, she would take everyone's opinions into account when she decided on the new team members.

Harry cast a fleeting glance at the hopefuls, trying not to let his mind wander. Those trying out for Chaser were grouped at one end of the pitch, Keeper at the other. He saw Ron standing at the far end and waved. Angelina, Alicia, Katie, and the twins were clustered in the middle, waiting for him. He jogged up beside Fred and slung his Firebolt over his shoulder. "Where do we start?" he asked, eager to help. 

"There are six of us and two groups of them," Angelina said. "Three to each group. Boys take the Keepers, and we'll take the Chasers."

"No," said Fred, shaking his head. "That won't work."

"Why not?"

"Well," he answered, "first of all, it's the Keeper's job to stop the Quaffle."

"Right," Angelina said. "So we'll take the Keepers-"

"No," George cut in.

"No?" Angelina asked. "Okay, what this time?"

"The first mistake was separating the two groups." George took a step back from the group and yelled, "Oi! Everybody over here!"

"The second mistake," Fred continued for his brother, "was thinking you had to do all the work. We've got Keepers and Chasers, and there are already two Beaters on the team. That's enough for a tryout- you girls can sit back and watch. We'll try them against each other."

"That makes sense, I suppose. We've four Keepers and twelve Chasers, so that works out fairly enough. Alright, everyone," Angelina said, more sure of herself now that the twins had restructured her plan. "Here's what we're going to do." She turned to the four Keepers. "Pick a number between one and ten."

"Eight." That was Colin Creevey, a boy a year younger than Harry with a severe hero-worship problem.

"Five." That had to be Janet Ashton, a second-year. Harry hadn't met her before, but he knew the rest of the hopefuls present.

"Seven," Ron said.

"Three." The last one was Harley Jones, a sixth-year girl with close-cropped brown hair.

"It was seven," Angelina said, smiling at Ron. "You get to choose first- you'll each get three Chasers."

Ron cast an appraising glance over the twelve candidates, and as he did so, Harry felt himself do the same. There was Dennis Creevey, Colin's brother, and two more third-year boys. Sarah Hartnett, a fourth-year, and her constant companion Laney Braxton. Beside them-

Harry shook himself mentally. There was Ginny Weasley, looking very unsure of herself, and holding what looked to Harry to be only a marginally safe broom. She noticed him looking at her and gave a smile and a slight wave, both of which he found himself returning without thinking about it. Ron chose Alex Fiddle for his first Chaser.

Colin was next; he looked a bit nervous, but picked Ginny over his brother. Harry refrained from making a mental comment about that; Ron, he noticed with some degree of alarm, didn't seem to be as good about disguising his opinion.

The first teams to play against each other were Harley's and Janet's. They played (rather poorly, in Harry's opinion, save for a few spectacular saves by Harley) for twenty minutes before Angelina sent Fred and George up to stir things up. After that point, no one seemed able to score. Discouraged, Angelina called them all down again and sent up the other teams.

This, Harry realized, was a game worth watching, especially as it pitted brother against sister. Colin was a little unsteady on his broom, but Ron seemed quite confident flying without hands. Harry knew that this was an illusion; Ron had been too nervous to eat breakfast or lunch and had not slept well the previous night. Alex Fiddle was a cut above the rest of the Chasers on his team; he had possession and was sweeping in towards Colin with the Quaffle-

When a flash of bright red passed directly underneath him, snatching the ball from his outstretched hand. Ginny passed to Dennis, who fumbled for a moment before throwing it as hard as he could at Ron, but it never got that far. Fiddle was already recovering from the shock Ginny had given him and had intercepted it before it got to Ron. Holding the Quaffle much closer than he had before, he sped towards the other end of the pitch.

And had to swerve almost immediately to avoid a Bludger aimed at his midsection. Fred or George- Harry couldn't tell from the distance he was at, probably George by the flying style- saluted him with his bat as he flew by. Alex continued towards Colin, but soon realized that this was pointless; he no longer had possession of the Quaffle. Laney Braxton, the fourth member of Ginny's team, had caught it when George had caused Alex to swerve and drop it. She, however, was fumbling it rather badly, and passed it off to Ginny. Alex turned her own trick back on her, but apparently Ginny was just warming up and Alex was already at peak performance, because she flew up overtop of him and snatched the Quaffle right out of his hands a second time. 

Dennis and Laney, who had been ready to intercept Alex far nearer to their own goal posts, were not in any position to have the Quaffle passed back to them. Ginny headed straight for her brother, cocked back her arm, and let the Quaffle sail towards the far right hoop. Ron sped towards it, arms outstretched, he wasn't going to make it-

At the last second, Ron put on a burst of speed and caught the Quaffle just before it would have gone through the net. Angelina blew the whistle. Ginny, Harry noticed curiously, deflated. The ten of them flew to the ground…

*

"Isn't there some rule against having four members of the same family on one team?" Angelina said with a rueful grin. "It kind of creates an unhealthy balance. Especially when they're Weasleys."

"Can we help it if we're good at Quidditch?" Fred asked innocently. "And no, there's no rule against it. We checked."

"Well, let's get down to business. Katie?"

"I think we can pretty much say it's down to Ginny and Alex Fiddle for the Chaser position- he's quick with the Quaffle and his aim and speed are amazing. But Ginny has a unique flying style and a lot of moves that would definitely be an asset to the team. We'd be lucky to have either of them."

Angelina nodded. Katie's analysis was reminiscent of her own. "And for Keeper?"

"Either Weasley or Harley- they both made some pretty good saves, although Harley's team fell apart when we let Fred and George mix it up. Then again, he could have been too comfortable- he was playing against his family, after all. No offense," she added to the twins.

"None taken," George assured her. "Although I doubt he thought any of us were going to take it easy on him, and I'd be hurt if you thought that."

"Right. Fred, George, I'd ask your opinions on this, but they _are_ your family… Harry, the same goes for you, I'm afraid."

He nodded, looking uncomfortable. On either side of him, the twins looked distinctly unhappy. George crossed his arms. Neither of them protested, however.

Angelina sighed. "Alicia?"

"Fiddle doesn't have what it takes," she said without hesitation. "He fell apart during the end of their scrimmage, and it only lasted twenty minutes. We need someone with more stamina. Same thing goes for Harley. Put them on reserve for the long games when you need to rotate on and off, but I wouldn't recommend putting them on the first string."

"All right," Angelina said, glad she could include the Weasleys anyway without feeling biased from the twins' influence. "That settles it, then. Weasleys! Fiddle! Jones!"

"Weasleys! Fiddle! Jones!"

Ginny looked up from her conversation with Sarah and shrugged, then jogged over to where her brother's girlfriend was standing. She heard Ron, Alex and Harley come up behind her. A knot formed in her stomach. Had she made it? Or was she being dismissed? She didn't know which was worse- having to play in front of all of Hogwarts, or being humiliated in front of Harry.

__

No. She didn't like him again. She _wouldn't_. This was not the time for another schoolgirl crush; Harry was busy, she was busy, and Voldemort was taking over the outside world--

"Congratulations, Weasleys," Angelina said, cutting through the whirlwind that had taken up residence in Ginny's brain. "You've made first string. As for you two," she nodded at Harley and Alex, "there are no more positions on the team except in reserve, but we'd be happy to have you."

Harley agreed quickly and enthusiastically, but Alex scowled and declined. As they walked away, Ginny heard him say to her, "Well, it's not like I expected anything different- they practically have four relatives on the team-"

Ginny felt her ears turning very, very red. How dare he? She had outclassed _him_ on the field, that much was certain; now she knew she outclassed him on the ground, too.

"Alex!" Angelina called. He turned around slowly. "I want you to know," Angelina said, speaking low, dangerous tones, "that neither Harry nor the twins had any input on this because of the possibility that they would be biased. The decision was made entirely by Katie, Alicia, and myself. But if you want to think otherwise, that's your problem. I can have Creevey take your place on the reserve team."

Alex scowled, but didn't say another word as he stalked off. Ginny made a face at his back. Some people needed to learn proper manners.

*

"Sirius!" Anya yelled, dropping her stack of folders on a chair by the fireplace. "Where are you?" She shucked off her coat and Banished it to a coat-hook on the back of the door. 

Mundungus looked up with a bemused expression from reading the paper, but Anya pretended not to notice. Sirius came in the front door then, floating Leon upside-down in front of him. "Hello, Anya," he said, hiding a grin. "Happy to see me?"

"Quiet," she growled. "And what were you doing with Leon outside? With no coat on? Sirius, it is _freezing cold _outside!" _And it's September. And I don't like it. _

Sirius looked unusually abashed. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Guess I wasn't thinking."

Anya cringed mentally. She had forgotten how sensitive Sirius could be when it came to Leon's health- it probably had something to do with missing crucial stages of Harry's development, or else she was reminding him of Lily Potter admonishing James. "Never mind." She sighed and picked up her files again, stacking them on the bookshelf. She frowned at the space that had been empty for some time now. "Sirius, have you seen my book? _Legende Gaelige,_ I mean. It's been missing for a while."

Sirius shook his head. "No, actually I haven't. Did you lend it to someone?"

"It's in Gaelic," she said by way of an answer. "I'm the only person I know who could read it, although my Gaelic is a little rusty."

"Why don't you just Summon it?" Sirius suggested, pulling Leon upright. "Or is that too simple and straightforward for you?"

She smacked him on the back of the head. "Quiet, you. I tried already; it's outside my range." In a place as magically active as Dromore House, there was a limit to the distance spells could travel without being intercepted by other spells. Institutions like Hogwarts and the Ministry had taken steps to prevent the unnecessary ones from clogging up the area so that magic could be better practiced. "Mundungus, you haven't seen my book, have you?"

"Sorry," he said, and she could hear him smile behind his newspaper. Well, if he hadn't seen it, then it was fairly certain that Arabella didn't have it. 

"Bollocks."

*

Ginny looked down at the _Daily Prophet _in disbelief. Incredible things had happened from time to time, of course; miracles, even, but this was getting out of hand. She looked from the paper to the window of the fourth year girls' dorm in confusion. She had to be seeing things.

Or it was just a coincidence. A series of coincidences. After all, she'd heard of global _warming_. But…

It didn't snow in September.

Did it?

She knew that it took a very powerful wizard to manipulate the weather in even a limited area. According to the _Daily Prophet_, Muggle London was covered in six inches of snow. A geyser in Muggle America that had erupted regularly for hundreds of years had stopped completely. A two-day-long thunderstorm had just blown through various dry parts of Arizona and Colorado. Something - possibly some_things_- was or were not right.

Ginny sighed and tucked the paper away. She'd give it back to Hermione later; now, she needed to rest. There was a Quidditch practice bright and early the next morning. She gave the book on her bedside table one last, longing glance before shutting off the light.

*

Phew! That's the end of this chapter, thank goodness. If you're still reading, I congratulate you. I apologize for the monstrous length of time it took to come out. Mucho credit goes to Zsenya for beta-reading this insanity. Next chapter should be out… er, well, next chapter should be out eventually, anyway.

Please review!!


	11. When Your Eyes are Closed

Lion11 __

The Lion and the Unicorn

Chapter Eleven: When Your Eyes are Closed

Author name: lone astronomer

Author e-mail: [kvries23@yahoo.com][1]

Category: Mystery

Keywords: Charlie, Order of the Phoenix, post-GoF

Spoilers: GoF

Rating: PG-13

Summary: While working with dragons in Romania, Charlie receives a mysterious letter from Dumbledore. Days later, he and his best friend are in way over their heads and out of the country on what promises to be the adventure of their lives… or is it just 'the norm' after all?

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: _In this chapter we see Sudden Inspiration Harry, Combat Charlie, Rescue Bill, & Angst-ridden Sirius, & almost everybody gets to wear lycra! (Did I mention Charlie in lycra? Oh, I did? g)_

Acknowledgements this chapter include not only the wonderful Zsenya for beta-reading, but Billy Joel for writing/singing the inspiration for one of the most unique characters I've ever created.

*

A man is in love / How did I hear?  
I hear him talk too much / Whenever you're near  
He whispered your name / When his eyes were closed  
A man is in love  
And he knows

- A Man is in Love, _Waterboys_

*

Ginny awoke from her third straight nightmare with a start and flopped back onto the pillows. They seemed to be getting more difficult to understand and a lot easier to remember, almost as if they weren't so much dreams as they were memories. She remembered the last one with astounding clarity...

__

She was standing on a thin patch of frozen water, floating in the sea. In her hand she carried a long pole, and with it she pushed herself along. The waves often splashed over the ice and onto her toes, but her feet didn't get wet. A light, warm breeze tugged at her honey-colored hair and the sleeves of her olive green cloak, and she drew the pole out of the water. Holding it aloft like a torch, she murmured softly, and the end sparked brightly, cutting through the fog. In the near distance an island was appearing...

Her feet touched the sandy shores and she felt the magic working its way through her. An attendant came forward, bearing her crown, and she allowed the servant to arrange it on her head. Thankful to be back home, a smile blossomed on her face, and she took a deep breath of the healing air. Her staff shrank down a bit and turned from sturdy wood to a sort of magical silver, the type that couldn't be found anywhere else in the world.

"You have a message?" she inquired of the attendant, who had not yet disappeared as was customary. The islanders well knew their Queen's love of solitude.

"You've a visitor waiting, my Lady," she replied, bowing her head, the hint of a smile upon her lips. "In the gardens."

"Oh? Sir Galahad has come to call, then?"

The attendant looked apprehensive. "He said it was to be a surprise, my Lady-"

She laughed, trying to hide her uneasiness. "He cannot hide from me, Anya. You haven't spoiled anything."

The servant bowed, then retreated a step, but she had not been dismissed. 

"Enough, Maeve," Aine said, having finished with disguises. She flicked her wrist expertly and in that fraction of a second a dagger appeared in her hand. "Show your true self. I've no times for these games if Galahad is about."

The 'servant' pouted and soon lost all pretense of being such. Worn and dark hands softened and lightened, her back straightened, her hair glistened black and white streaks appeared. Maeve was still pouting. "How'd you know it was me?"

"The servant whose identity you stole was called Elaine," Aine replied, pronouncing it 'El-e-anne.' "She is not good at hiding reactions when people so much as mispronounce her name, let alone replace it entirely."

"She wasn't very good at defending herself, either," Maeve said cruelly.

"Oh, I'm sure you gave her a fighting chance," the Queen answered icily. "Or rather not. She was one of the new breed, you know, a sort of Tuatha-elf hybrid. I've been working on them for decades and you just killed off one of my prime specimens."

"Why meddle with magical perfection?" Maeve asked. 

"The Tuatha dé Danann are far from perfect. They're too vengeful."

"And so you're tempering that by breeding them with elves?" Maeve asked doubtfully. "Your theory, like your experiments, needs a bit of work."

Aine spitted her with a dark glare. "They need a chance! Why do you torment me so?"

"Just trying to make you see light. I could leave your experiments alone, if only you'd reconsider-"

She snorted impatiently. Maeve would try to talk her out of anything she wanted by any means necessary. Unfortunately, Aine was about as ready to change her mind as a half-starved young dragon was to pass up a meal of tender maidens. "I will_ marry Galahad! I do not want a life of solitude, and I love no other, nor is my love of experimentation so great that it would cause me any grief to lose it if it meant that Galahad and I could live together in peace. Why must you test us so? Why do you think Galahad unworthy simply because he is a man and not a wizard?"_

Maeve gave her a long, calculating look before speaking. "It is not the will of magic that the two of you hold so much power," she said finally.

Aine scoffed. "Are you such a slave to this magic within you?"

"Magic is not within me, it is_ me. I cannot control it. I am only the messenger."_

They lapsed into silence a moment. A morning dove fluttered down from the sky and landed awkwardly in a puddle, splashing about. A chill ran down Aine's spine. "Galahad is in danger, isn't he." It wasn't a question.

"He is in the garden," Maeve replied. "If you hurry, you may save him before the poison has done its work." She closed her eyes and was gone.

And if Ginny thought that that part of the dream was strange, the next part was certainly a surprise. Although in her earlier dreams Galahad had been quite fair, in this one he was not. He was tall, and lean, and dark-haired, and looked exactly like an older Harry, right down to the glasses he wore, which were certainly very out of place in the medieval setting of the dream, and the lightning-bolt scar. It seemed that after Aine saved Galahad, Ginny's own subconscious kicked in a little stronger and tried to make things recognizable. Galahad, the lover, had turned to Harry- _Wishful thinking,_ Ginny thought cynically- Aine's hair became bright red- _Cruel reality_, she thought wistfully- and the whole of Avalon- for what else could it have been?- had simply faded away to the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch...

"Hey, Red!" 

Ginny looked up. It was Julianne. "Mmph," she managed, pulling her thoughts away from Harry, Quidditch, and the dream.

"Time to get up, or you're going to be late for breakfast."

Ginny sighed and reluctantly rummaged around in her trunk for some clean clothes. "Alright. I'll be down in a minute." She headed towards the bathroom, chancing a hopeful glance out the window as she went, and sighed mentally. The snow hadn't melted. That meant no Quidditch, at least not yet. Maybe, if she were lucky, it would do so before Quidditch season was over...

*

Harry wasn't sure what made him lift his head, but something did, and he realized that he was in the middle of History of Magic. Most of the class was slumped over in their seats; he and Hermione seemed to be the only two who were even remotely aware of their surroundings. He stifled a yawn. He could get back to sleep, if only Binns stopped talking for a second...

But the old ghost kept on. "... but Merlin's knights were unable to find Bresal Etarlan and his allies, even with their powerful magic, as they, the enemies, had found a natural magical shield from detection in Meath, down in the fortress beneath Dowth Cairn. In fact the de Duban were not heard from for nearly twenty years, when they kidnapped..."

Harry yawned. This stuff was pretty dry, although for History of Magic it bordered on bearable. He half-closed his eyes, letting his mind wander, but didn't take his eyes off of Professor Binns. Binns took this moment to pull out a ghostly pointer and flicked it lazily in the direction of the map of Ireland, turning Meath a bright red.

Red. He looked down at the red band around his wrist curiously. Everything seemed to be red all of a sudden. Not that he didn't like red. It was his House color, the color of his Firebolt. Ginny Weasley's hair was red... It was if he was viewing the world through someone else's eyes, someone with- Harry stopped that train of thought. Voldemort had red eyes. He shuddered inwardly, then blinked hard to rid himself of the feeling that he was being watched. Turning slowly, he noticed that Hermione was looking at him, an alarmed expression on her face.

"I'm okay," he mouthed at her, resolving to keep a better poker face in the future. Yawning again, he crossed his arms and put his head down on the desk. On his left hand, his Order of the Phoenix ring rubbed comfortingly against his index and ring fingers. Almost everyone else's Phoenix ring had been enchanted to invisibility because of the risks involved in displaying it publicly, but it had been decided that it mattered little if Harry wore one- Voldemort already wanted him dead as it was. The only other person who wore his ring so openly, aside from Albus Dumbledore, was Bill Weasley, who displayed his more as an outward sign of grieving for his MIA friends. Despite the Order's best Tracking Charms, there had been no new developments. They might as well have already been buried-

Something clicked in Harry's mind. _Buried. Of course!_ Conveniently, the bell rang for lunch, and Harry rushed off immediately in the direction of the Headmaster's office.

*

"Sirius." She almost choked on the name. It was a blessing that she'd decided to do this when Mundungus and Arabella were out. Remus, having returned from Norway just two days previously, was sleeping off the full moon.

Sirius looked up, and in his face she saw shock, hurt, and anger written under the betrayal he felt. "It was you," he whispered, barely moving. "It was you," he repeated louder, almost as a question, and then he turned away. "And you never told me."

"I wanted to," she explained, feeling as though she'd just had to rip her own heart out as well as his. "I wanted to, but if I had, would you have even looked at me twice? Would you have given me a chance? Or would you have resented me forever? Sirius, if I'd-"

"I don't think I want to talk to you right now," he said quietly. Sirius stood up and left the room without another word.

Anya didn't bother trying to hide her sobs.

*

Bill was in his office at work, twiddling his wand expertly and distractedly between his thumb and third finger, when the news arrived in the form of Albus Dumbledore's bearded head. Hiding his mild surprise, Bill stood, dragged his chair closer to the fireplace, and sat down again.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore said gravely, the customary twinkle conspicuously absent from his eyes. 

"Hullo, Professor," Bill returned half-heartedly, trying to bring his mind back to the present. It had buried itself somewhat uncomfortably in the past and gotten stuck there, and he'd been fairly useless when it came to conversations for weeks. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"In this case, a certain Mr. Potter and his better-than-average powers of memory retention during History of Magic." Bill must've looked confused, because Dumbledore continued gently, "He thinks he knows the location of your Miss Scott and her associates."

Bill nearly tumbled right off of his chair. "I'll be there in five minutes."

As it turned out, it was only three minutes and ten seconds, most of the delay having been caused by Bill's almost-nerveless fingers adamantly refusing to write the note to his supervisor. Eventually he gave up and sprinted down the hall to the head office, made an excuse about a family emergency, and begged off the rest of the week. Then, he grabbed the jewelry box under the fake panel in the third drawer down, which contained his Order of the Phoenix ring (he wasn't allowed to wear any jewelry at work), and rubbed it three times counter-clockwise. Three seconds later, he was in the Headmaster's office.

Professor Dumbledore looked up expectantly, glanced at the clock and almost, _almost_ smiled, then motioned for Bill to take a seat next to Harry. 

"Where?" Bill said, not bothering to sit down. His wand-hand itched. He tapped his fingers in a restless pattern on the back of the chair. 

Under other circumstances, Bill knew, Dumbledore probably would have made a well-intentioned jab at his eagerness. However, he wasn't so cruel as to make light of the situation, especially when, Bill swallowed a lump in his throat, Harry's speculation could be proved wrong.

Or else Anne, Hallie, and Jim could be dead.

He closed his eyes, vowing not to think about that again until he had to.

Surprisingly, it was Harry who answered, in an uncharacteristic, tentative voice, as if he didn't want to interrupt Bill's lapse into self-pity. "An old burial site in Meath, called Dowth. It's got a natural magical shield, which would throw off any Tracking Charms..." He trailed off.

Bill looked at him, trying to keep calm. "When do we leave?" He was painfully aware that he was wearing his heart on his sleeve.

In contrast, Dumbledore hid any sort of emotion he might have felt quite well. "Mr. Weasley, I'm sure you'll agree with me when I say that we cannot leave here without the proper reinforcements and a plan. That said, it _is_ a Friday. If we're to do this, it will be this weekend. Making all haste possible would, I fear, be futile. Your friends have been missing for nearly a month; another day is likely to do little."

Bill absorbed this quietly, knowing he was being chastised. "Yes, sir."

They were interrupted at that moment by the entrance of four someones- Bill could tell this much without turning around- but when he did look, he was surprised (and mildly alarmed) to find that not only had his brother been summoned, but Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, and a young woman who, going by his brother's description in his last letter, could only be Chloë Sanderson. 

"Ah, excellent," said Dumbledore, his mood lightening visibly. "Bill, I'd like to introduce you to some instrumental members of the Order of the Phoenix- your brother, of course, and Professors McGonagall and Snape are working on some very important new curses and potions to be used against the Dark Arts. New to our ranks is-"

"Chloë Sanderson, I presume?" Bill asked, suddenly in the mood to embarrass his brother. He grinned to himself as the back of Charlie's neck turned red. He stuck out his hand for her to shake, but when she extended hers he raised it to his lips and kissed it, absolutely reveling in the expression on Charlie's face. "My brother has told me so much about you."

Charlie looked murderous. 

Severus Snape looked like Christmas had come early, at least, his sneer seemed to suggest amusement rather than disgust.

Chloë seemed to be fighting to keep the smile off of her face. "Really," she said dryly. "That's interesting. Because he's never said much about his charming older brother."

Bill thought he heard McGonagall snicker, but decided it must've been a cough. He was just about to reply when Charlie cut him off.

"All right, that's enough, you," he said, mock-glowering although there was more than enough sincerity behind the look. "From what I've heard, we've got some serious work to do."

"Hear, hear," Bill agreed heartily, more anxious than ever to get going. Professor Dumbledore conjured some more chairs, and Harry began to retell his tale...

*

There was nowhere in the house he could escape, Remus reflected. He couldn't stand being in his bedroom; he could sense Anya's presence two doors down and smell her pain and it was not at all pleasant. There wasn't much point in going upstairs; playing pool against himself was never quite so much fun as when he played against Sirius.

And there was little chance of dragging Sirius away from that piano. Its music filled the house with some Muggle tune Remus had never heard before, although it didn't sound exactly happy. Sirius was storming through the notes like there was no tomorrow; Leon was sitting on the floor at Sirius' feet, looking up with rapture at his surrogate father and enjoying every tick of the metronome. 

And the most disturbing part; far more disturbing than the thought that he could hear Anya's now-muffled sobs with his acute sense of hearing; far more disturbing than the way Sirius was concentrating on his music and hadn't even noticed that he was being observed yet; far more disturbing than the ease with which 'surrogate father' completely fitted to Sirius and Leon's relationship, even with Anya figured in; of all of this, the most disturbing part was that Sirius was singing. 

In all Remus' years of knowing Sirius, he had never known him to do more than recite anything more than the occasional original ditty to annoy Snape. He never hummed anything. He didn't mouth the words to songs when he heard them on the Wizarding Wireless. Remus hadn't even known that Sirius liked Muggle music until that summer at Dromore House, and suddenly there seemed to be an undiscovered hallway in his friend's soul.

__

Whatever happens next, Remus thought as he retreated up the stairs to the sanctuary the pool table offered, _It's sure as hell not going to be pretty._ He smiled wryly to himself. _Or G-rated._

*

__

I am not hearing this. I am not_ hearing this_. Anya pulled her pillow tighter over her ears, unable to deny it any longer.

Apparently, Sirius wasn't _just_ a Paul McCartney fan. She could hear, through the pillow, through the walls, through to her very core, the strains of music resounding from that piano. And above that, just barely, she could hear Sirius' voice. 

Apparently, he did sing.

__

Why Billy Joel? she wondered, and allowed herself to listen harder. She sat up on her bed and opened the door, leaning against the doorframe and wondering if she should just leave well enough alone. But the music was like the pied piper calling, and she could not restrain herself from skulking down the corridor to the sitting room.

Once again thankful that Remus was detaching himself from the whole bloody mess, Anya stood against the wall and closed her eyes. _I don't want to do this..._

'She can kill with a smile; she can wound with her eyes.  
She'll ruin your faith with her casual lies.  
And she only reveals what she wants you to see:  
She hides like a child but she's always a woman to me.'

It would have to be that song, wouldn't it? Anya thought wryly, and sank to the floor._. _She sighed quietly. Billy Joel had never had quite this effect on her. But then, she didn't know him personally. And she'd certainly never considered him romantically. _Wait a minute, since when have I considered _Sirius_ romantically? Or anyone, for that matter?_ _But,_ she thought distractedly, _he does have a rather nice arse._ Her eyes opened wide at that thought. _This is a dangerous train of thought,_ she realized, and quickly put an end to it.

__

'She's frequently kind and she's suddenly cruel;  
She can do as she pleases; she's nobody's fool.  
And she can't be convicted: she's earned her degree'

Well, Anya thought cynically_, that's certainly appropriate. _

'And the most she will do is throw shadows at you but she's always a woman to me.'

She waited patiently for him to finish the song, and when he did and failed to move afterwards, she spoke quietly. "I thought you didn't sing."

Not appearing the least bit startled, Sirius turned haunted dark eyes towards her. "Times change."

She met his gaze for the first time with no secrets behind her eyes. "Yes. Yes they do."

He sighed deeply, covering his face with his hands, and when he spoke it was only through them. "You must've been one hell of a lawyer."

Anya gave him a weak smile. "The best," she answered, wiping the last teardrop from her cheek self-consciously. _I must be a mess._

"I should have guessed." Sirius chucked humorlessly. "I suppose I've only got one option, then."

"Unless you want to wait for Pettigrew's capture to be declared innocent, I should say so. The court hearing shouldn't take more than an hour- it would just be you, me, a qualified Veritaserum expert, and Dave Dobson, head of the Department of Magical Law."

"I guess if there's no trial the first time around, you can't really have a retrial, can you?" Sirius said. "Although I do find it a cruel sort of irony that the lawyer who got me convicted is going to be the same one that gets me out of this mess."

Anya closed her stinging eyes. "It's the least I can do." She breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that, though she knew Sirius couldn't have forgiven her, at least she had some sort of chance for atonement-

"Is your Phoenix ring tingling? Because mine is, and it feels urgent."

She opened her eyes again. Remus, King of Tact, was standing at the top of the stairwell, absently fiddling with an invisible piece of jewelry. 

"Actually, yes," she answered, climbing to her feet. Not bothering to draw her wand, she made a vague hand-gesture in the general direction of the fireplace. "_Incendio Frius_." She made a sweeping gesture, indicating that they should hurry. "After you."

*

"Harry!" 

He turned in the direction of the voice. It was Hermione's, that much was certain, and she was annoyed with someone and/or out of breath from running after him. He'd not been able to return to classes after the meeting in Dumbledore's office; his mind was far too busy, so he'd opted instead for a (somewhat) relaxing walk by the frozen lake.

Hermione and Ron jogged up (hand in hand, no less, Harry noticed with glee; something to razz Ron about), their breath short and visible in the chill air. "What are you doing out here, you twit?" Hermione demanded sharply. "It's dangerous, even with the Aurors around, and besides, you'll catch cold-"

"Thanks, Mum," Harry said with a teasing grin as Hermione threw his cloak at him in her frustration. His smile widened; they were still holding hands. "Do I need to ask what you two've been up to while I was out here attempting to contract pneumonia?" They both flushed scarlet and disentangled their hands immediately. _This is going to be fun._ "Was that a no?"

"Shove off, Harry," Ron muttered, still red. 

"Ron, be nice. What were you doing out here, anyway?" Hermione asked as they made their way back up to the castle. "And how much does it have to do with the way you ran out of History of Magic? Did you have another nightmare?"

"Not exactly," Harry said evasively. "Look, I'll tell you everything, but you've got to wait until Monday. I'm- er- sort of bound by this promise I made... but it won't matter anymore on Monday- it will probably be all over the papers-"

"Harry!" Ron said exasperatedly. "Who're we going to tell, anyway?"

"It's not that I don't trust you," Harry explained hastily, not wanting to get into an argument over such a trivial thing. "I'm just worried about people overhearing. It really is important, and I'm sorry that I can't tell you more. They were even talking about Obliviating my memory of the thing." That last wasn't a complete lie: Severus Snape had suggested it, but it was generally thought that if Harry couldn't be trusted, no one could. 

"Oh," Ron said, probably a little put out that he couldn't be part of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry was only allowed in because he had begged, bribed, wheedled, cajoled and guilt-tripped Sirius into letting him have permission. Even then, he knew he would not even have been considered for membership if it hadn't been for the fact that he was the Boy Who Lived, and they needed him.

At any rate, there were no further tempers that night and Ron seemed to be sleeping soundly. Harry, however, was awake long into the night, thinking about the meeting in the Headmaster's office.

*

Preparations began early the next morning. Bill Apparated to a point just outside the wards of Dromore House at around six-thirty, spoke the password to the guard gnomes, and was treated to a wonderful second breakfast by Anya, although he had to eat standing up as everyone was too busy to sit. 

Sirius spent half an hour explaining Muggle weaponry, the concept of loading, and roughly what to aim for. Then he took them outside behind the old stables, set up a series of targets, and wished them luck. Bill found that it got progressively easier to imagine 'shooting' (he understood that this was the proper Muggle verb) his enemies, since they couldn't be cursed. He was ready to face them again. There were also small egg-like things that emitted a sort of gas (grenades, or something, Bill thought) that would hopefully render the enemy helpless.

It was at ten o'clock that they finally dressed in their jumpsuits (Sirius privately thought these were unnecessary, but Chloë had insisted, although he had the sneaking suspicion she just wanted to see what Charlie looked like in Lycra), packed up their weaponry, flipped the safety catches on their guns, grabbed the extra ammunition and Portkeyed several miles north to the location of Dowth.

"The thing about Meath," Sirius said as he drew his weapon with his left hand and his wand with the other, "is that there's absolutely nowhere to hide. Do you all know the Inortus Spell?" They nodded. "Good," Sirius continued. "Because we'll be needing it in a minute. Right now I suggest we split into two groups- one group to go in and get the Phoenix members out if they're in there, and another group to cover them. Any volunteers for Group One?"

Bill, Anya and Remus raised their wands.

"Excellent. Remus, do you remember the Maglius Link Charm?"

Remus nodded. 

"Okay. Here's what we're going to do to avoid confusion. You link to Anya and Bill, but don't link them to each other. I'll link to Charlie and Chloë, then we'll link to each other. Everybody got the general idea?" More nods. "Good."

When they were linked properly and had tested the communication, they cast _Inortus _on themselves and made their way up the hill to the cairn.

__

Stop, Sirius commanded silently, and heard Remus do the same. _Is anyone detecting any wards?_

There was a slight pause, and then Remus answered, _Bill says there's a strong Dark Shield over the entrance. Anya feels it, too._

How long until we get it down?

Another slight pause. Then, _They've got it._

Okay, you two, Anya and Bill have got the wards down. Chloë, to the left of the entrance, Charlie, to the right. This made more sense than anyone would give Sirius credit for; they could each inch up right against the entrance to minimize detection without immobilizing their wand hands- Charlie was left-handed. _I'm going straight between you, about three meters in. The other group will follow me in, then keep going. If your Invisibility Charm wears off after you've got them, don't worry about it. Just get the hell out. Everyone got that?_

Remus answered for all of them: _Let's do it._

*

__

Any idea where they could be? Remus asked in Bill's head. _You know them best- can you sense them at all?_

Bill concentrated, trying to discern any magical signature that could be Anne's, Hallie's, or Jim's. _Left,_ he replied finally. _About as far left as you can go, and then down._

Right. Left it is then- Remus stopped abruptly. _Wait, Anya says there's both wards and guards that way. How many guards, Anya? And what kind of wards? Bill, how's your Invisibility Charm holding up?_

I've got ten minutes, at least, but not more than fifteen. Bill wondered how Remus could handle getting answers from two people telepathically at once.

__

Right. Anya's got about the same range as you do; unfortunately I'm going to be very visible in about seven. There are three guards down there- one Drifter, one Death Eater, and a Dementor, as far as we can tell-

A Dementor?! Bill almost had to bite his tongue to keep from saying that aloud. To himself, he thought, _They had better hope that Anne is alright, otherwise..._

Shut up and listen. Bill, you have the grenades. Take one out, enchant it to be invisible, and float it all the way down to the end of this corridor. Summon the pin back, then wait for about twenty seconds before going down there. We're going to have to lose the Invisibility Charms or we won't be able to have a proper fight- we're likely to curse ourselves. Then Anya will do a Patronus to take care of the Dementor, as they don't need to breathe. You're a better shot with the Muggle weaponry; you take out the Drifter if it's not knocked out. I'll keep my wand handy in case the Death Eater has cast any Filtration Charms. Ready?

Bill nodded, then, feeling sheepish for not realizing that Remus couldn't see him, _Ready. _He pulled a grenade out of his belt, enchanted it, and muttered, "_Wingardium Leviosa_." When he felt it hit the far wall of the corridor, he steeled himself , unconsciously covered his nose with part of his robe, and Summoned back the pin. _One, _he thought as the pin clattered noisily in the dark hall; _Two,_ as he prepared to remove his Invisibility Charm; _Three_, as he muttered, "_Ortus_." Beside him, Remus and Anya did the same. 

Working quickly now, he put his wand back in its holster (whose convenient location I won't mention, as some people will be jealous) and pulled the Muggle weapon off of his back. Remus and Anya brandished their wands but did not light them in the dark tunnel, not wanting to alert anyone else to their presence. _Let's go,_ Remus announced, sounding grim in the confines of Bill's mind. They did.

At the end of the tunnel, something was stirring. Resisting the urge to aim and pump it full of lead, Bill moved into the lead position and noted that whatever was moving, it wasn't human. Then the cold wave hit him hard, and he heard again what he'd heard when Dumbledore told him that his teammates were missing-

"_Expecto Patronum_," Anya murmured, swishing her wand. A silvery mist floated out of her wand, but nothing more. The Dementor kept coming. Anya swore. "_Expecto Patronum. Expecto-_ Oh, sod it! _Stupefy._" And then, with an irritated flick of her wrist, unbreakable silver cords wrapped around it, keeping it from struggling once it awoke. She melted the cords into the floor, then said, "_Reducto_." 

Bill raised a figurative eyebrow. _That was efficient. _The Dementor was now so tightly bound by the cords that it could probably only barely move its bony fingers. But he didn't have any more time to think about it, because he could feel, once again, the magic being sucked out of him-

He spun fast and aimed, suddenly peripherally aware that Remus had done the same in the opposite direction, and put three bullets through the torso of the Drifter at point-blank range. Too shocked at the results of his actions to think about the consequences thereof, he turned blankly to Anya and Remus.

Remus looked just as shocked as he did. There, on the ground at Remus' feet, lay the body of the man who could only be Peter Pettigrew.

"Remus!" Anya said aloud, jarring him out of his reverie. "Let's just find the others and get out of here- never mind Pettigrew right now; we'll get him on the way out."

The magical forcefield holding the first of the prisoners was just through the chamber doorway that the Dementor was lying prone in, nestled up against the wall. It was Jim, obviously sleeping and unhealthily thin, with several weeks' worth of grime stuck to his usually almost clean clothing. (Poor Jim was born to be a bachelor.) Bill worked through every Anti-Warding Spell he knew, surprised to find that in the end, the simplest, _Finite Guardium,_ was sufficient to cut through the magic. Remus slung Jim over one shoulder, then picked up Hallie, whom Anya had just freed from the same type of containment. Evidently there were bonuses to being a werewolf- the extra weight wasn't even slowing Remus down.

It was, fittingly, Bill who found Anne, and when she didn't stir when he tried to wake her he thought his heart would splinter. "Anne? Anne, wake up, we've got to get out of here-"

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "She's out cold from the gas, just like the other two," Anya said softly. "Come on, let's go."

Not in any emotional state to protest, or indeed do anything other than what was required of him, Bill gingerly lifted her in his arms and headed towards the door.

Which was now blocked by six big, ugly, mean-looking beings.

Anya swore and before she could think about it, four of them were thrown back against the wall. _Remus, get out of here!_ she thought miserably. _It's a trap! _The other two creatures- these were Drifters, she knew, and the other four were Death Eaters, Peter Pettigrew not among them- advanced, chanting, arms outstretched. She was just reaching for her Muggle weapon when Remus stepped through the doorway and shot them both.

Not letting her mind register the mess on the floor, Anya glowered. "I thought I told you to get out of here!"

"Since when do I take orders from you?" Remus shot back. Evidently he'd already carried Jim and Hallie out to Sirius. "Bill, it seems we've been discovered; now would be a good time to leave-"

She didn't have to tell him twice: he was out the door and down the corridor before any of the four possibly conscious Death Eaters could move. "Remus. Where are Jim and Hallie?"

Remus paled. "I left them-" 

"Go." But he was already running. Pulling her wand out again, she stepped out into the corridor. 

Only one of the Death Eaters was still conscious- Avery, she thought to herself. As he opened his mouth to curse her, she shouted, "_Expelliarmus_!"

Avery blocked it. "_Furnunculus!"_

"_Averso!_"

"_Stupefy!"_

Anya ducked. "_Expelliarmus!" _This time, Avery lost control of his wand and she turned tail and ran, nearly tripping over the limp body of Peter Pettigrew in the corridor. "_Mobilicorpus_," she muttered as she passed, him, grabbing his arm and checking his pulse at the wrist as she went. It was slow. She doubted he would wake up any time soon.

"Got you!"

She spun around to disarm the whoever-it-was, but tripped and slid on the shale, cursing. Something ripped through the flesh on her leg and she screamed-

*

"Anya's in trouble," Remus panted, setting his charges down where Bill was tending to a still very much unconscious Anne.

Charlie and Sirius looked up. "Where-" Charlie started to ask.

Someone screamed. "There," Remus answered vaguely, but Sirius and Charlie were already gone.

__

Shit, Sirius thought- apparently too loudly, because he felt Remus _Finite Incantatem_ himself as the thought continued. They had been on top of the cairn before, but now he leapt down over the edge to the entrance, Charlie hot on his heels. 

What he saw at the mouth of the cairn made his blood boil- there was Anya, lying helpless on the ground and bleeding from a long gash on her leg, and there above her stood a Death Eater and a Dementor-

But on the ground beside her was the still body of Peter Pettigrew. "_Expecto Patronum_," Sirius shouted, conjuring up the happiest memories he could. Charlie, beside him, did the same. An unspoken agreement passed between them; Charlie raised his wand against the Death Eater while Sirius levitated the other two up and out of the cairn. Behind him, he felt someone approach, so he let Wormtail drop to the ground, caught Anya up against one arm- she hissed in pain as he inadvertently caused her to put weight on her leg- but the Death Eater did nothing about him, only aimed his wand at Anya and shouted, "_Stupefy!_"

Sirius managed to block the curse and send one back, making a mental note to brush up on his dueling skills. Charlie had just stopped the Death Eater he was dueling from cursing Anya into the next week and levitated Peter again, retreating. "Sirius- let's _go_!" 

Grimacing, Sirius allowed himself a split second of vulnerability, grasped Anya tighter about the waist, and Apparated back up to the top of the cairn.

He was very lucky that he didn't get splinched- in fact the only reason he didn't was that Bill had just taken down the anti-Apparition wards so that they could leave. Chloë would be the only one not assisting someone else- this was, of course, to be expected in a raid on a suspected Dark rabbit hole- but the others had enough skill to handle the extra weight. Two seconds later, everyone was safe and more or less sound back behind the hedge twenty meters from the gates of Dromore House.

*

"Find Arabella," Remus instructed Charlie, setting Jim and Hallie down on the cots Chloë had conjured. Across the room, Bill was frantic, administering every First Aid Charm he could think of that had any hope whatsoever of reviving and sustaining Anne. He was clearly mentally and emotionally drained, not to mention physically. Charlie and Sirius were less affected. Charlie, because he hadn't had to do much and Sirius because Sirius got a peculiar sort of high from this kind of mission and thrived on it. Not to mention the fact that Peter Pettigrew was bound unconscious beneath eight different wards in Anya's cellar.

Arabella came in, rushing straight past where Remus was tending to Hallie (Jim was already beginning to regain consciousness) and tried to shoo Sirius aside, kneeling beside the bed where Anya lay. Sirius was not to be shooed however, as Arabella might have remembered from Hogwarts; in point of fact he did not move two centimeters from Anya's bedside in several hours. Most people were too tired to notice this, and once the wounded had been tended to they all found bedrooms in which to sleep. It was Arabella who finally moved Anya back to her own room; everyone else was out cold. It was because of this that, when Sirius woke up, he was alone once more.

The house was entirely silent save the sound of his own breathing, Hallie's muffled mumbling, and Jim's soft snores. Anne and Bill were gone; presumably she'd woken up and he had taken her somewhere more private to fill her in on what she'd missed the past few weeks. The most conspicuous absence, however, in Sirius' eyes, was Anya's- she should have been on the cot he was resting his head on- what did she think she was doing, wandering around the house in her condition- she was mad...

His sometimes-eerie sixth-sense led him to her bedroom, where she was thankfully both laying down and asleep. The blanket was pulled up around her right thigh and the material of her jumpsuit was pulled away in places, revealing a rather nasty gash. It looked almost like the one Remus had had down his chest, minus the charring, and Sirius deduced that it was either the same wizard or the same knife blade that had inflicted it, possibly both.

Which meant that she probably had some sort of curse running through her veins to go along with the mild concussion and the nasty flesh wound. 

Sirius swore softly. He was sure Arabella had taken care of it, but that didn't mean he liked it any more. The wizards shouldn't logically have been after Anya- already injured, already disarmed, there was no reason she should have been targeted. By the same token, he should have been- he'd had the wand, but besides that, he was Sirius Goddamn Black and they had just engineered the capture of Peter Pettigrew. Something bizarre was going on, and after the whole messy court business was taken care of, he was going to put serious effort into finding out what.

Arabella poked her head in the room while he was mulling this over, and told him, not unkindly but in no uncertain terms, to get lost.

"I can't," he answered meekly, not looking up.

"You'll bloody well have to," Arabella insisted, "I'm going to dress her wounds, and that involves _un_dressing her, and I don't care how old you are, Sirius Black, or what your relationship with that woman is, you are not staying in the room for it!"

Uncharacteristically, Sirius didn't argue. 

Something was definitely amiss.

*

There was the ruffling of blankets and a sudden intake of breath, and then a ragged curse. "Bloody hell." Anya pulled the blankets over her head. "Turn it off."

A voice that probably sounded terribly awake answered, "It's the sun, Anya."

She started, then slowly rolled over to face him. "Great Merlin. You don't know how relieved I am to see you're not in my bed."

Sirius made a face at her. "Thanks."

Anya groaned and buried her face in the pillows, "Not meant to be an insult. I _wish_ my powers of recovery were that good." She yawned, closing her eyes again. Her stomach rumbled. "What time is it? No, scratch that. What _day_ is it?"

"Sunday," Sirius answered. "You've been asleep since about noon yesterday. Which is good, because Bill and Anne have been getting all lovey and Arabella won't stop saying how cute they are and it gives me an excuse not to have to see it." He raised an eyebrow. "How's your leg?"

"Hollow," Anya answered as her stomach growled again. "What's for breakfast?"

Sirius grinned. "You missed it. Scrambled eggs on toast with bacon and pancakes." He motioned to an empty plate on the bedside table. "Arabella drafted Remus and Charlie and forced them to learn to cook properly. Not bad for amateurs." Seeing the murderous expression on her face, he hastened to add, "Don't worry, I'm sure Mundungus saved you some..."

She laughed for reasons indiscernible to him and relaxed onto her side, suddenly seeming a lot smaller. "Your Patronus is a unicorn," she said sleepily, tracing imaginary lines on the coverlet. "D'you know why?"

__

That's a rather personal question, he thought, but decided to answer anyway. They had asked each other far more personal things in the past. "Do you want the long version, or the short and relatively angst-free one?"

Anya raised both eyebrows, her mouth slightly open, apparently at a loss for words. "Never mind," she finally managed. "I didn't mean to-"

He silenced her with a shake of his head. "It's alright. It's-" he closed his eyes, remembering. "It happened one Halloween, while my family was inside celebrating. It was an Indian Summer that year, before Voldemort came to power, and it was going to be the last warm day for a long while so we- my older brother and I- went out at sundown to enjoy the dusk." He cleared his throat and continued. "We got lost, in the woods behind my house. It got dark, and we got separated. I-" He stopped again, unable to watch the expression on her face. "I never saw Orion alive again. I don't know what it was that- well, I don't know how it happened. But there was a unicorn standing over him when I found him, that led me out of the forest."

He didn't need to open his eyes to see the expression on her face- it was written in the way she spoke her next words, in the way he could hear her moving. Still, he nearly jumped when he felt her hand cover his. "I'm sorry, Sirius. I shouldn't have asked."

"You didn't know. If I hadn't wanted to tell you, I wouldn't have." He opened his eyes and suddenly, Anya's bedroom felt a lot smaller. "Well, come on. I'd say it's lunch time."

*

"They seem to be attached at the hip, don't they?" Chloë asked amusedly. She was seated in a padded patio chair in the gazebo with Charlie, Remus, Jim and Hallie, the somewhat battered stone table serving as the center of their circle- Mundungus was in the cellar, guarding the prisoner. She was speaking, of course, of Bill and Anne, who had just passed by a third time. They were circling the backyard a third time, almost but not quite holding hands and talking in low voices; although everywhere else in Great Britain was covered in snow, there wasn't a single flake to be found at Dromore House. 

"Attached somewhere, at any rate," Jim commented, extinguishing his cigarette. 

"Jim!" Hallie reprimanded sharply, then laughed. "Don't be crude." She sighed dramatically. "I can't believe I'm related to you."

Chloë tuned them out. "How long have they been together?" 

"They haven't been more than three feet away from each other in twenty-four hours." The new voice was Sirius', coming up the path with Anya. They took the two remaining chairs.

"You're one to talk," Remus pointed out. 

Anya flushed slightly. Sirius did not.

"What do you think they're talking about?"

*

"At first I didn't know why they wanted me. It wasn't like they didn't question us- they did, of course they did, and they would use whatever means necessary to get their answers- but it was as if the answers didn't matter, anyway. The information wasn't important to them. After a while they got bored with us and put us under Stasis Spells."

Bill frowned. "So basically, you still don't know why they kept you alive. Not that I'm complaining, mind you."

"Oh, I know why they kept us alive." The two of them stopped behind the old stable, safe enough for the moment from prying ears. Anne knew she sounded bitter and paranoid, but decided that since she'd been unconscious for almost a month, she had the right. "The whole bloody thing was a trap. They wanted one of you. And you're damn lucky that they didn't get you."

Bill seemed to be absorbing this. "So you were bait, then? Who were they after?"

Anne shrugged. "We might've found out, but unfortunately, we all got away," she said with light sarcasm. It wasn't funny by any means, but it was fairly ironic. "And captured one of them on top of it." She bit her lip. "What I don't understand is why they had a Dementor... or I guess I should say, how. They're not supposed to be able to get off of Azkaban without Ministry permission- and the Ministry doesn't just _lend_ people Dementors-" She stopped. "Unless the Dementors aren't on our side after all?" she suggested gently, knowing that Bill had probably already heard if this was so.

The expression on his face confirmed it, and he sighed, suddenly looking tired. "Dumbledore thinks they're in with the Enemy."

"Oh," she said softly, studying the ground. When he looked like that-

"Anne." 

His voice compelled her to meet his eyes, and in them she saw pain and anguish and concern-

He pulled her into a tight embrace and she felt a month's worth of tension drain out of him. As he buried his face in her hair, she heard a rough voice, barely above a whisper. "I love you."

*

Being a hero on the weekend, Charlie soon discovered, did not mean that you got special privileges when it came to teaching. For example, if your brother broke another boy's nose, you pretty much had to give him detention, even though he was your brother and he thought that it was unjust, and even when the other boy was the irritating Draco Malfoy and had been provoking him on purpose. It was in this way that he ended up with the two of them standing just outside the staff room at nine o'clock Monday night.

Ron was looking particularly mutinous, if a bit smug, and Draco was just looking mutinous. They were standing as far apart as they could and still be considered just outside the staff room. Both looked like they were positively itching to draw their wands. Charlie sighed to himself. It was going to be a long night.

"All right, you two," he said, gesturing down the hall. "Outside. I want to see how you are at…"

"Catching Glo-Pixies?" Draco whined five minutes later. He secretly probably would have preferred something a little more vicious, thought Charlie, but would have outwardly insisted that his Care of Magical Creatures Professor was trying to get him killed.

Charlie glared. "Well, I'd ask you to help with the Firebreathing Suckerfish, but I doubt you've ever been ice-fishing in your life. Come back in an hour."

Draco glowered, but said nothing, and stalked off. 

__

It's not like he actually has to do_ anything,_ Charlie reflected. Glo-Pixies were notorious for their curiosity: all Draco had to do was cast an elementary Illusion Charm, wait for the Pixies to show up, and Stupefy them.

Meanwhile, he and Ron tested the ice on the lake, making sure it was thick enough before venturing partway out. In all his years, Charlie could never remember a time when the lake had actually been frozen over completely, but it was. He and Ron sat down and, after casting a small hole in the ice, they touched their wands to the surface of the water and settled down to wait.

"My bum's got frostbite," Ron said moodily.

"I could cast a Heating Charm under you," Charlie offered helpfully, grinning.

He scowled. "No, thanks."

"I thought not." Charlie paused. How to address the issue… ah, well, Ron was his brother after all. No privacy. "What did Malfoy do to tick you off, anyway?"

If it was still possible, Ron's expression darkened. He didn't seem to be about to say anything, but then Charlie heard, "He's a slimy, Muggle-hating, despicable ferret."

"Oh, is that all?" Charlie pulled his wand up out of the water and shook the Suckerfish off into a tub he'd brought with him, then stuck it back into the water. "Here I thought it was something serious."

"It _is_ serious," Ron exclaimed, his wand hand trembling with what Charlie perceived as rage. "He won't- I mean, that is, he…" Charlie raised an eyebrow. "He threatened Hermione's parents."

"He _what!?_" Charlie felt as if he'd just fallen through the ice. "He wouldn't do that- not in front of the rest of the class…"

"Excuse me? Have you _met_ Draco Malfoy?" Ron asked incredulously, and Charlie wondered if he was deliberately trying to sound like the other boy. "Narcissistic, stuck-up, snot-nosed, filthy, slimy rich brat? About yay high, white hair, has a stick lodged permanently up his-"

"Enough, Ron. What I want to hear more about is this alleged threat."

Even in the dark, he could see Ron flush slightly. "He was- being a git, and Hermione told him he'd better quit it or she was going to do some curse on him that would endanger his winning Witch Weekly's Most Insensitive Smirk award, and he said, 'The only danger you should be worried about is the danger your being a- Mudblood,'" Ron spat the word, "'puts your parents in.'"

Charlie was silent for a moment. It wasn't much of a threat- it wasn't even that cleverly worded- and indeed, in some lights it could be seen as a warning. It was still incredibly insulting, but that didn't excuse Ron's behavior, either. "And you just happened to overhear some insults and decided Malfoy needed his face beaten in." Ron mumbled something. "Pardon me?"

"I said, he wasn't insulting Hermione," Ron repeated, barely louder.

__

Ah. Much as he loved playing matchmaker, Ron and Hermione were a couple Charlie wasn't quite prepared to handle. He decided to be direct. Older brother's privilege, after all. "So when are you planning on asking her to the Ball?"

Ron jumped so high that the movements of his wand scared away a small group of Firebreathing Suckerfish. "How did you-"

Charlie wanted to laugh, but restrained himself for fear of hurting his brother's feelings. "Just a hunch. Didn't you have a huge fight last year when you _didn't_ ask her to go?"

He could tell Ron was blushing harder. "Well…"

Charlie grinned. "Ron, let me let you in on the secrets of asking a girl out…"

*

The court date had gone incredibly smoothly, even smoother than Anya had anticipated, and was over in a few hours whereas it usually took days. All of it was down to the use of Veritaserum, usually prohibited in the courts, but an exception had been made for this case because the events had occurred so long ago. Aside from that, Anya had called in a favor with the Minister of Magical Law Enforcement, and so everything was kept low-key. However, she had no doubt that the truth about Sirius Black would be all over the pages of the _Daily Prophet_ by morning.

Peter Pettigrew had been sent to Azkaban. The jury (for his trial had only just started) had not yet decided upon a punishment, although it was likely to be a life sentence or several. 

Anya did not know what Sirius thought about this. He was in the kitchen, thinking, wondering, reflecting, and for some reason was in a more melancholy mood than she would have anticipated. She could practically hear him brooding.

Mundungus and Arabella were at the Ministry yet again; the Experimental Potions Department needed Arabella's guidance on a more powerful version of Wolfsbane, and Mundungus' expertise was needed in the Aurors' fields; more of that lot were disappearing or turning up dead every day.

Anya was just finishing up her minutes of the hearing when she heard the noise.

Her hearing was not what it would have been had she been descended more directly from the High Ones, the Tuatha dé Danann, but it was fairly keen. Frowning, she put the book down and followed the noise down the corridor.

Left. It was on the left side. That meant-

__

Leon.

Sidhe senses screaming at her, Anya raced down the hall and threw open the door to his room.

Silence.

Heart pounding in relief, she strode quickly over to the crib to see if she'd awakened him.

He wasn't there.

The pounding of footsteps outside drew Anya's attention, and she vaulted out the window after them. "SIRIUS!"

*

Something was wrong. He could feel it. He could smell it, he could hear it-- 

"SIRIUS!"

He whirled around and bolted out the front door, raced across the front yard and out the gate. "Where?" he yelled, waiting to be directed.

"There!" came the answer as Anya rounded the orange bushes and flew out the gate, falling back just the slightest bit as her feet hit the snow. "Behind the hedge-"

Even as he drew closer, Sirius knew it would be too late. When he skidded around the corner, he was afforded only a glimpse of his onetime friend before both he and Leon disappeared with an audible _pop_.

"No!" Obviously having heard the sound, Anya had doubled her pace, but to no avail. "No," she whispered, eyes glued to the spot where the tracks in the snow stopped. "No. Sirius, he can't be-" she dared not say more.

Sirius, too, felt the blow. _Twice I've failed the people I care most about…_ "Anya, I- my God, I'm so sorry-" His throat closed and he found he could speak no more. _Idiot. This is your fault!_

Tears were flowing unchecked down Anya's face, which made everything worse. Not knowing what else to do, nor if he was doing it to comfort Anya or himself, Sirius drew her into his arms. Anya collapsed against him, pouring her anguish out into his shoulder, and cried. Words of comfort failed him, and if they hadn't he may have needed them for himself. 

Pettigrew was gone again, and once again he'd taken a crucial part of Sirius' life with him. _I swear, Peter_, Sirius vowed, _that I will do everything in my power to find you, and heaven help you when I do._

*

   [1]: mailto:kvries23@yahoo.com



	12. A Heroine, A Resolution, and a Man In Lo...

Lion12 __

The Lion and the Unicorn

Title: The Lion and the Unicorn, Chapter Twelve: A Heroine, A Resolution, and a Man in Love

Author name: [Lone Astronomer][1]

Author e-mail: [kvries23@yahoo.com][2]

Category: Mystery

Keywords: Charlie, Order of the Phoenix, post-GoF

Spoilers: GoF

Rating: PG-13

Summary: I finally stop hinting and give you concrete evidence. Harry gets a letter from Sirius, Sirius finally starts interpreting what the heck is going on between him and Anya, and we see that blasted book. There's a Halloween ball, which Charlie chaperones… although, he does get to leave early…

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's note: I confess I gave in to the romantic sentiments pretty much all over, and thus the first half is most significant plot-wise, while the second half is mostly fluff and mush. Lots of mush. Not my fault- Charlie took over.

__

A man is in love / How did I guess?  
I figured it out / While he was watching your dress  
He'd give you his all / if you'd but agree  
A man is in love  
And he's me

-A Man Is In Love, Waterboys

*

Harry stared at the parchment Anya's owl had just dropped onto his plate as if it were about to bite him. No longer the shade of brilliant emerald she'd been in the summer, Mada Dymphna was either molting badly or else someone had taken the coloring spell off of her. The parchment would have been innocuous enough, were it not for the fact that, after she'd dropped off his mail, she had circled around the Great Hall before dropping a present on Malfoy's breakfast, too.

Sighing resignedly, he picked up the parchment, broke the seal, and began to read- or attempted to read, anyway. The handwriting might have resembled Sirius' script, if, for example, Sirius was prone to having seizures while he wrote. Now curious, Harry pushed his plate away into the center of the table, where it disappeared, and concentrated on discerning the characters in the letter.

__

Dear Harry,

I wanted to get this letter off before you heard the news from someone else. Don't get too excited.

The events of Saturday are something of a blur to me, but the end results were basically two things: first of all, we all got away unscathed, which you already know from Charlie I'm sure. What I forbade him to tell you was that we also captured one Peter Pettigrew and forced him to testify at a court hearing under Veritaserum. 

Harry almost swallowed his tongue.

__

In other words, the letter continued, _I'm a free man. Look up; Hermione probably just read that in today's _Daily Prophet_. _

Harry did, and saw that Hermione was gesturing frantically to Ron and Ginny, on either side of her, an abused-looking newspaper in hand. She had no doubt already seen that he had his own letter and assumed that it was from Sirius. Ron looked satisfied, and, under that, angry- the injustice of it got to him sometimes, Harry knew. And Ginny- 

Was looking right at him. She flashed him a reassuring smile and went back to her breakfast. Harry wondered if he'd imagined her ears turning pink. 

__

What Hermione doesn't know is that Wormtail escaped later that afternoon, probably just after they'd printed the Daily Prophet_. They couldn't very well take off his whole arm, and as it acts as a wand in itself, he couldn't be properly disarmed (you'll pardon the pun). We don't know how he found Dromore House, but… I don't know how to tell you this, Harry, but Wormtail has kidnapped Leon._

All of the color drained from Harry's face and he felt himself choke. The contents of his stomach and his mind both seemed to want out rather desperately. He pushed back from the table blindly, steadying himself on the back of his chair, before making his way up to the Head Table. _I've got to see Dumbledore_.

"Professor?" Harry heard himself ask, sounding strangely alien to his own ears.

The Headmaster looked at him gravely, concern clearly etched on his face. "Yes, Harry?"

"I… don't think I can attend classes today, sir," he managed to say, wondering detachedly if the room was spinning or if he was merely swaying dangerously on his feet. 

Professor Snape, who had probably been listening in, scowled and made as if to object, but Dumbledore cut him off. "I understand. Perhaps you should see Madam Pomfrey before you do anything else?"

For once, Harry thought that was a very good idea, although what he really wanted (if he couldn't have Sirius' company) was to simply be alone. "Thank you, sir. I'll- go now."

He was peripherally aware of the loud whisperings as he left the Great Hall, from Gryffindor and Slytherin tables in particular, but couldn't be bothered to actually hear or remember any of them. The corridor stretched out before him; Madam Pomfrey and the subsequent solitude were beckoning.

Harry had no idea how long he had been walking for when he came to the conclusion that he was hopelessly lost. "Oh, bugger," he said, and collapsed against the wall.

At some point he realized that he'd forgotten his mail in his breakfast, and that anyone could just come along and read it, but at that point he was far beyond caring. He wanted sleep- he wanted out of his damaged mind for once- but sleep wouldn't come, and he found moving his muscles too difficult, and so he sat there in a stupor, staring at his scuffed sneakers, and tried not to feel.

He must have sunk into some sort of trance, because his ears barely registered the footsteps moving towards him. "Harry?" He didn't look up- couldn't find the energy. He sat, seeing a new pair of shoes beside his own. They had been Charm-dyed a brilliant shade of teal. Harry knew those shoes. They belonged to Ginny Weasley. "Harry, are you alright?"

He managed to look at her this time. "No," he answered, his voice dull and without inflection. "I don't think so." Damn. She looked concerned. She _sounded_ concerned. While a part of him reveled guiltily in the attention, the other part really, really wanted her to bugger off.

To the latter part's chagrin, he heard her slide to the floor beside him. "I'm sorry about Leon," she whispered, and pressed the letter from Sirius into his hands.

"Ginny Weasley," Harry deadpanned, "have you been reading my mail?"

He sensed her almost smile, but knew she probably felt almost as bad as he did. "Well, after you ran out like that, I- we all, I mean- were a little concerned and…" She trailed off. "I'm sorry." She sounded like it, too. 

"It's alright," he said, going back to his stare into nothingness. "Er, Ginny? Where's the hospital wing?"

Beside him, she shifted suddenly, and paused before she spoke again. "Harry, do you know where you are?"

"No," he replied dully.

Ginny stood, brushed off her robes, and pulled him to his feet. "Come on, then. I'll take you there."

It took ten minutes, with Ginny half-supporting Harry the whole way, to reach the hospital wing. Finally they made it and Harry flopped down almost bonelessly onto the chair in the front office. 

"Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey asked. "What have you gotten yourself into this time?"

He let Ginny answer. "He's just had a bit of a shock- Sirius going free, and whatnot," Ginny said, looking less concerned than she had before. "He should be okay. He just needs… time…"

Madam Pomfrey gave her a scrutinizing sort of look, then went to her cupboard and brought forth a goblet of Pepper-Up Potion. "Drink this," she instructed him, turning back to Ginny. "Shouldn't you be in class, Miss Weasley?"

It seemed as if Ginny was about to protest, but she must have changed her mind. "Yes, you're right. I've got to get to Transfiguration." She cast what seemed to be an apologetic glance at Harry. _What, she's leaving?_ Judging by the expression on Madam Pomfrey's face, she was probably about to feed him another potion. He pasted on a weak smile to prevent this. "Bye, Harry."

"Bye," Harry whispered, mostly to himself, fully aware that he was talking to a shadow.

*

"Dear God," were the first words Charlie was able to choke out after reading his mail. His face had gone white underneath his freckles, and his brown eyes seemed curiously dull. It was, needless to say, fairly disheartening. 

"Charlie?" Chloë asked, quietly so that none of the other teachers would overhear their conversation. "Are you alright? What's happened?"

He didn't answer right away, and at that moment, Harry Potter made his way up to the teachers' table, looking much the way Charlie did. He spoke with Dumbledore and then stumbled out into the corridor, seemingly lost.

"Charlie! Hey," she said, softer. "What's the matter?"

The shocked expression had disappeared from Charlie's face, leaving something akin to emotional exhaustion in its place. "Do you remember Leon?"

__

Oh, please let Leon be okay. "Sirius' kid, big brown eyes?" _He has to be alright. Who could harm such a child?_

"He's been kidnapped."

__

Oh, hell. She felt her jaw work for a second, tried to express what she felt, but was quite incapable of it. She closed her eyes. "Ransom note?"

She could hear him shaking his head, but he must have realized that she wasn't looking, because he said, "No. No ransom note, no body, no blood- they know who the kidnapper is, though."

"Pettigrew." She spat the name- having already read that he'd escaped in her own morning mail, she was even more disgusted with him than she'd been when she'd learned of his betrayal. "How could anyone-"

"I know," said Charlie, looking away. "I know exactly how you feel."

*

Sirius hardly stirred as Remus and Arabella walked back in, not bothering to turn on the light as they headed to their respective bedrooms. He guessed that this signified another nonproductive day of searching for information on Leon's whereabouts.

It had taken most of his energy to convince Anya that she needed to stay home that day and rest. She hadn't slept in nearly a week, and was running mostly on caffeine and the bizarre emergency reserve of energy that she seemed to save for special occasions, which wasn't healthy. She'd hardly eaten, and the dark circles under her eyes had been starting to worry him.

There was the distinct sound of a bedroom door latching shut- Arabella's didn't close all the way, but Remus' stuck a little and always made a very clear _snick_. Sirius chanced a quick glance at Anya to make sure that she was still sleeping, and found himself feeling a desperate sort of possessiveness. The fact that he could _not_ feel his arm also crossed his mind. It was fairly uncomfortable, at least in the physical sense, but Sirius didn't mind that so much. He Summoned his reading glasses and picked up his book from the table- a battered and much-loved copy of _Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance_, which had a lot to do with Zen and comparatively little to do with motorcycles, lit his wand and stuck it behind his ear to act as a reading lamp. He was vaguely aware that he must look very silly, but didn't much care as everyone else in the house was sleeping.

That he couldn't concentrate any more on the words than he had the last time he'd picked it up did not surprise him in the slightest. Sometimes the complete abstraction of Robert Prisig's quest for philosophical answers hit a little close to home, especially when he figured in the man that he had once been and the responsibilities thrust upon him almost immediately after his escape from Azkaban. Sometimes… far too often, Anya had chided him… he wondered whether adopting Harry was the best thing for him. And it wasn't the only thing he was worrying about lately. 

He looked over at Anya again and sighed. He wouldn't get another thing done that night, and he knew it too well. Sleep would not come easily; he had gotten into the habit of adding some of Arabella's Sleeping Drought stock to his drink each night before bed, but was now slowly building up an immunity and soon he would need to find an alternative. 

Grimacing, Sirius removed his glasses and set them on the table, stood up and activated the wards on the fireplace to prevent unwanted Floo visitors. Unwilling to wake Anya, knowing that the Sleeping Drought he'd slipped her wasn't strong enough to keep her under for much longer, he pulled the afghan off of the back of the couch and spread it over her, not wanting or needing to wonder why his fingertips were tingling. With one last, resigned glance in her direction, Sirius headed for bed and the doubtful sanctuary of sleep.

*

__

The woman drew the cowl up around her face, glancing from side to side, trying to determine whether or not she was being watched. As she did so, she seemed to shimmer in mid-air, becoming less substantial, almost disappearing. She appeared to be in some sort of tunnel- dark as it was, Ginny couldn't be sure. Vague, muted sounds could be heard coming from the end of the corridor. The woman headed towards them, blending in easily with the stone walls. She reached the end of the tunnel stepped through the wall.

Inside the chamber she was now in stood two men, one tall with cruelly beautiful features and the other round, short and somewhat muted in comparison. One of his arms seemed to be made of silver, and he was holding a wailing baby.

The first man was extending some sort of syringe towards the child, whose screaming increased. Neither Ginny nor Maeve had to wonder what he was doing or what should be done about it. Ginny was merely a spectator in her dream, however, Maeve was an active participant.

So was the child. Between the two of them, the cruel man and his stumpy sidekick were thrown violently away from each other and their victim, pricking him with the syringe in the process. Droplets of blood congealed in the syringe. Maeve plucked it out of him and tossed it aside, then held the child close and bowed her head. With a flicker of blue light, they disappeared.

They reappeared with the same fanfare in a room very similar to the one Ginny was aware that she was in. Six four-poster beds stood lined up against the wall, red hangings drawn shut. There was even a trunk that looked remarkably similar to Ginny's own…

Oh, hell,_ Ginny thought._

Maeve took her bundle to the last bed, the one with the dream-trunk that matched Ginny's, and pulled aside the curtain.

I'm sleeping in a funny L-shape_, noted Ginny with interest before she realized how bizarre that sounded, even in the dream in her mind's eye. _

She laid the child, now sleeping, in the crook of dream-Ginny's arms, and surveyed her work for a second before speaking. "My debt is repaid." Maeve flickered, and was gone.

In the darkness of her dormitory, Ginny Weasley stirred awake. "Oh, hell." Confused, tired, grouchy and also somewhat relieved, she picked up the child in her arms and stole out of Gryffindor Tower. There was someone she had to see.

*

"Harry."

Was someone calling him? No, it was the middle of the night- he'd just awoken from an extremely bizarre dream that was already fading. He did not want to wake up. He had been getting little enough sleep lately, and now with Leon missing and Sirius and Anya upset beyond belief, the pressure was on more so than usual. And there were rumors about the giants' decision to side with Voldemort again flying around and Hagrid was still with them, and so Harry decided that he needed every single wink of sleep he could get, and that there was no voice calling him.

"_Harry_!" He recognized that not-voice. It was Ginny Weasley's.

Harry's eyes snapped open and he slid his hand into his sleeve, grabbing his wand and lighting it. "Ginny?" He reached for his glasses. "What in Merlin's name are you-" He settled them onto his nose. "Sniveling Slytherins. Is that who I think it is?"

"Hush," Ginny warned him, sitting on the edge of his bed. He scooted over to give her more room. "I've only just gotten him back to sleep. I thought he was going to wake the whole castle!"

"I'm not still dreaming, am I?" Harry asked, taking Leon from her arms. "I mean- I, uh, thought I saw… but it was only a dream…"

"Harry Potter," Ginny whispered, deadpan, "have you been dream-dropping?"

He felt his jaw drop. "You've been having them, too?" Leon stirred and buried himself further in his blankets. "Since when?" 

Ginny fiddled with the button on her pajama top. Apparently she'd been in too much of a hurry to put on a robe. Harry tried hard not to think about it. "They've been getting stronger these past few months," she answered. "But I've been having them, off and on, since the end of first year." More fiddling with that button. "Since my encounter with … Voldemort…" She seemed to resign herself to something and before Harry could ask what she was doing, she undid the top button.

It was not far enough down that he could see anything he shouldn't have, but there was no way one could miss the thin lightning-bolt shaped scar just below her collarbone. "Oh, hell." Other words didn't quite seem appropriate. "When did… um…"

Ginny might have flushed in the darkness; Harry couldn't be sure. "Chamber of Secrets," she answered quietly. "Probably a few hours before you… um."

__

I'll kill him. "But if he tried to kill you, why didn't you, you know," Harry squirmed, "I guess I'm not the only one who's ever escaped Avada Kedavra after all." He took a deep breath. "But… how?"

"I don't know," she answered, but something about her tone made him want to think she was lying. "I always just assumed it was because he was weak, and using my wand…"

Harry shook his head. "I don't believe that for a minute." He'd always thought that the fact that his mother had died from him was what protected him from Voldemort. But if that were so, how had Ginny survived? No one had died for her… "Ginny?"

"Yeah?"

"We've got to go. We can't stay here- Madam Pomfrey comes in every once in a while to check on things. If we're caught, we are going to have some serious explaining to do." He was pretty sure Ginny was blushing as she buttoned her top again. "And besides that, we should get Charlie as fast as possible."

"You're right. But we also can't let ourselves be caught outside the castle. It's grounds for immediate expulsion."

Harry grinned. "Leave that to me."

Fifteen minutes later, the three of them were snug under the Invisibility Cloak, making their way out to Hagrid's cabin. "Harry?"

"Yeah?" he answered, trying not to get distracted and smack into her again.

"What are we going to do if Professor Sanderson is in there?"

Both of them stopped dead. Harry felt a grin spread across his face. "Run like hell?" he suggested.

Ginny giggled. Leon stirred and yawned in Harry's arms, and she grew quiet again. "Look out," she whispered suddenly. "That Auror's coming this way!"

There was nowhere and no time to hide. Before they knew it, the Auror was almost directly in front of them. They froze as Mad-Eye Moody walked past. Harry watched with a sinking feeling as the magical eye trained on them. They were caught- he knew that that eye could see through Invisibility Cloaks-

But Mad-Eye just grinned and whistled to himself as he walked by. Harry imagined him singing "constant vigilance" to the tune. "That was close," Ginny whispered.

__

Closer than you know, Harry thought to himself, feeling somewhat wary. The last time Mad-Eye had seen him with his Invisibility Cloak, it hadn't really been Mad-Eye. "Yeah. Let's just get to Charlie's."

There was still, surprisingly, a light on in the cabin, and were they not invisible, Harry and Ginny might have exchanged something of a knowing glance. "What now?" Ginny asked. "Do we just go in, or do we knock first?"

Thinking what Ginny had about the possibility of Charlie having company, Harry opted for knocking. There was a pause, then from inside a voice called, "Come in."

As it turned out, Charlie wasn't alone, but his company was not female. Sirius was sitting in the other chair by the fireplace, a mug of what, knowing Charlie, was probably Ogden's Old Firewhiskey in his hands. Both of them were staring blankly at the open doorway where Ginny and Harry stood. Feeling somewhat stupid, Harry shut the door behind him and pulled off the cloak.

Sirius gave a start and took a deep breath, shaking his head. "If you were a few inches taller, Harry…"

Harry blushed red to the roots of his hair, suddenly having the strange urge to put the cloak back on. Fortunately, Sirius and Charlie were much too interested in who Ginny was holding rather than how much they looked like his father and…

"Ginny, is that who I think it is?" Charlie asked, getting up.

Sirius was already there, somehow managing to envelop all three of them in a hug before plucking Leon from Ginny's arms. "Do I want to know how?" he asked, sounding a bit hoarse and looking at the two of them. Seeing their expressions, he answered the question for himself. "I want to know, but you won't tell me anyway." He closed his eyes and held Leon closer. After being silent for a while, he said, "Do you want to get Anya, or shall I?"

"I'll get her," Charlie said, heading towards the fireplace.

Sirius put out a hand and stopped him. "Later," he said. "She needs whatever sleep she can get right now."

"Right," Charlie answered, feeling sheepish. "You just finished telling me that, too. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Sirius smiled wanly, flopping back into his chair, the whiskey forgotten. 

"Right," Harry said, picking up the cloak and slinging it over his arm. "It might be a good idea if we got going before we got caught…"

Sirius nodded. "You're absolutely right-"

He was cut off by a loud knock on the door, which opened before Harry had a chance to cover himself or Ginny with the cloak. It was luckily just enough time to shove the cloak into Charlie's broomstick holder. In the doorway stood Professor Snape. _Oh, hell_. Snape sneered. "And what are you doing out here after curfew, Potter?"

Charlie pulled himself up to his full height and scowled almost as deeply as Snape was capable of. "Serving a detention, if you must know, Severus."

Snape raised a greasy eyebrow. "Whatever for, at ten minutes past one in the morning?"

Harry saw Charlie's jaw muscles clenched and entertained a momentary fantasy of Charlie punching Snape. "I caught them kissing behind the tapestry in the Charms corridor yesterday around this time. I thought their detention should be served at the same hours." 

Harry nearly choked. That was not the sort of thing he wanted his most hated professor knowing about, even if it weren't true. Ginny's face was a very horrible shade of red. He felt miserable. She would surely be teased far worse than he was if Snape told his Slytherins…

"Oh really?" he asked, practically oozing. "I thought Potter was supposed to be in the Hospital Wing- perhaps he caught something from young Miss Weasley…"

Harry very seriously contemplated using physical violence on his Potions teacher. Ginny, too, was having a hard time containing herself, although it looked more like she was going to cry than knock Snape into the next decade. _I'll kill him_, Harry decided. _I don't care what they do to me, I'm going to kill him._

But Charlie's icy voice beat him to the punch. "That was uncalled for." He turned to the two of them. "You two can go now. Your detention has been served. Sirius will walk you back to the castle." 

Snape left Sirius a wide berth as the three of them plus Leon exited the cottage. 

"I _hate_ him," Harry exploded as soon as they were out of hearing range of the hut. "He's such a stupid, slimy-" He cursed colorfully. Sirius also said nothing, and Ginny wouldn't even look at him. "I can't believe even Snape would say something that…"

Sirius sighed. "He's been known to say worse things, Harry." But he didn't elaborate.

Sirius left them at the doors to the castle, unable to continue because he didn't have the Hogwarts identification bands that they did. Harry and Ginny made it back to Gryffindor Tower without further incident, Harry being too tired to go all the way back to the infirmary. They said their awkward good-nights and headed for their respective dormitories. But Harry stopped halfway up the steps and turned around, not knowing quite what he was doing. "Ginny?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you go to the ball with me?" He made very sure that he wasn't talking so fast that he'd have to repeat himself.

The sudden silence nearly killed him. Then, "Yes. I will."

The dreams that night had nothing to do with Avalon or Voldemort.

*

She was still lying there, fast asleep on the couch, when Sirius got home early that morning. He'd already put Leon to bed (not before double- and triple-checking the extra wards he'd put up over the past few days) and although he had been unable to do anything but watch him sleep for a long while, Sirius knew that he had to wake Anya right away and tell her the good news. But he didn't know if he could. It was almost the same thing that made him able to watch Leon sleep for hours without so much as moving, but with so many subtle little differences that it wasn't really the same thing at all. So, without really knowing what he was doing, Sirius knelt down by the sofa and brushed a lock of dark chestnut hair away from Anya's face. "Hey," he whispered, "wake up."

Anya's eyes opened slowly, pupils large in the darkness, not the least bit disoriented. "Sirius. When did I fall asleep, how could you let me sleep, and is there any news?"

"Leon's home," Sirius said by way of an answer. Nothing else needed to be said. Everything was subordinate to that at the moment.

Anya closed her eyes again at this, and Sirius caught such obvious signs of pain and relief on her face that it nearly broke him, too. He knew she was crying. "Take me to him."

So he helped her stand, making sure the afghan stayed securely about her shoulders- it was an abnormally draughty night, even for Dromore House- and they walked to Leon's bedroom and Anya, too, watched the child sleep. He didn't notice at the time that he'd slipped his arm around her waist as they were walking, but it was hard to ignore when he felt Anya lean back against him as they stood there. "How?" Anya asked after a long silence.

Sirius shook his head. "Ginny Weasley found him. She wasn't exactly forthcoming with details." Frankly, he wondered himself, for it was surely important, but he was having a hard time convincing himself that anything else could possibly matter after Leon was safe.

"You've been to visit Charlie, I gather." He felt her smile. "I'm surprised that the two of you get along as well as you do."

"What, you mean competing for your affection like we do?" Sirius teased, resting his head against the top of hers.

The air in the room seemed to grow a bit colder as Anya stiffened a bit in his arms, but the tense moment passed. "Never mind," he said. "I shouldn't have said anything." Acting on the first impulse he got, Sirius bent down a bit and kissed the crown of her head. "Go to bed," he murmured, vowing to do the same. "You need sleep almost as much as he does."

She looked up at him and smiled wanly. "Thank you, Sirius."

His stomach did something horribly adolescent and flip-floppy. "You're welcome."

*

Remus walked into the kitchen that morning to something completely unexpected. Leon was sitting in his highchair, contentedly throwing mushy Cheerios at Arabella, repeating something that sounded disturbingly like "Padfoot," or else a somewhat demented version of "daddy." Not only that, but Sirius and Anya were sitting at the table together, not so much as flinging bits of scrambled egg at each other. There were such goofy grins on their faces that Remus almost wondered if he had missed the crucial 'dating' part of their relationship, but knew that he would have heard if anything had happened the previous night.

"Should I ask?" he inquired, helping himself to some of the leftover scrambled eggs and bacon and filling his coffee mug. He sat across the table from Sirius and Anya to better observe them.

"Remus, my friend, one thing I have learned in my life is never to question fate."

Remus snorted to himself. He hadn't indicated that he was talking about Leon. Neither had Sirius. Still, he didn't want to ruin the mood and so kept quiet. 

An owl swooped in the window then, a snow-white one similar to Hedwig, and dropped an official-looking envelope on the table, then flew off. "What's this?" Anya picked it up, slit it open, and read it quickly. A wide smile broke across her face. 

"What is it?" Sirius asked curiously, trying to snatch the parchment away. A brief, giggly playfight ensued, which ended when Sirius used the dreaded tickletorture method. He, too, read the parchment and laughed. "Well, those two certainly didn't waste any time."

Remus plucked it from Sirius' fingertips and smiled. 

__

You are cordially invited to the wedding of

Anne Cordelia Scott

And

William Arthur Weasley

To be held on the eighth of November…

"Who's it addressed to?" he wondered, reaching for the envelope and turning it over. It was clearly addressed to "the Heroes and Heroines of October third," which apparently included not only Remus, Sirius, and Anya, but also Arabella and Mundungus. He was sure that Charlie and Chloë were opening a similar invitation at Hogwarts that very moment. Remus also wondered about Hallie and Jim, eventually deciding that of course they had been invited, they were practically family.

"Frankly, I think they might have saved us the trouble if they'd done that long ago," Anya said with a smile. "But trouble always does seem to bring people together." She didn't quite look at Sirius when she said that. Remus, with some effort, restrained himself from commenting. There was no use in encouraging them- they would, without a doubt, end up a thousand times worse than Anne and Bill.

He checked his watch and noted that he would be late for work if he didn't hurry, and excused himself from the table to go get ready.

*

The mail that morning brought much happier news than it had the previous day. Ron and Hermione had been filled in upon the night's events on the walk down to breakfast, although Harry had left out a few particular details that he privately thought could be dealt with on a need-to-know basis, especially where Ron was concerned. Besides, Hermione was a Prefect this year and very involved in Prefectly duties, like making sure he didn't break the rules. And he'd gotten enough questioning looks as it was concerning Ginny's visit to the hospital wing. 

Thoughts turned far away from the previous night, however, when three heavy, white envelopes were dropped in front of Ginny, Ron and Harry. The four friends shared quizzical looks before pouring over the contents.

Ron looked at the invitation and laughed. "I don't believe it," he said. "Bill is finally getting married. Mum must be having a field day- she's been trying to marry him off for years!"

"Hush, you," Ginny said. "Obviously he hadn't found the right girl until now."

"I suppose not," Ron conceded, now reading through the details. "Hey Hermione, it says I'm allowed to bring a friend- I don't suppose you want to go?" Both of them turned very pink. Harry caught Ginny's eye behind Ron's back and winked at her; she grinned back.

"Er, of course," Hermione responded, trying so hard to look nonchalant that her anxiety level was completely obvious.

"Smashing." They both grinned like idiots. Harry examined his breakfast intensely. _Well,_ he thought dryly, _at least they're not trying to kill each other._

*

"That looks like pretty heavy reading."

Ginny looked up from her book, smiling as Harry took a seat beside her. "It would seem that way, wouldn't it?" She turned the page, entranced. "But it's really interesting… and has nothing to do with school. Therefore, it cannot be bad." She neglected to tell him that she was researching her- their- dreams. He would only think she was completely off her rocker.

"What's it called?"

"Gaelic legends," she answered, turning the page and glancing down at it again. She stared. There on the page… that was her and Harry, right there on the page, a lightning-bolt splitting the sky above them, and each with a nasty-looking weapon-

"Ginny?" The moment passed, and the figures were once again Aine and Galahad. Ginny blinked down at the paper, willing it back to as she had first seen it, but the illusion did not reappear. Harry pulled the book towards him. "This must really be involving." He skimmed the first few lines and removed his glasses, frowning as he wiped them on his sweater. "I thought I'd just cleaned these this morning," he said, with a fuzzy look on his face. "Guess I just-" He trailed off, examining the book sans glasses with an astonished expression on his face.

Ginny watched him curiously. What on Earth had gotten into him? He looked as if he'd seen a ghost- much as she might have, moments before. "What is it?"

Harry bit his lip, looking almost afraid to say anything. "I'd say 'eureka' and declare that I can see perfectly again… but unfortunately, the only thing I seem capable of seeing is this book." 

"What?" Ginny exclaimed, wondering if she should be alarmed.

Harry looked up at her again, replacing his glasses on his nose. "I'm farsighted. And nearsighted. Damn near blind, actually. But I can read that-" he stabbed a finger at the book, "without my glasses. But with my glasses…" The troubled expression returned to his face. "It's all Gaelic to me."

Startled, they regarded each other for a moment before pouring over the book. "You're right," Ginny finally said, completely baffled. "I don't believe it."

"What do we do now?"

*

Charlie stepped inside the Three Broomsticks and felt the snowflakes on his eyebrows start melting almost immediately. It was once again freezing outside and he was tired of it. What he needed was a good defrosting. 

The boisterous interior of the Three Broomsticks was a welcome change from the bitter and quiet cold of the streets. In one corner of the room, crammed as best they could into a booth meant for eight, the entire first-string Gryffindor Quidditch team plus Hermione, Alicia Spinnet, and Lee Jordan was making as much noise as humanly possible. Katie Bell was slowly growing a trunk as she sat there between the twins, and seemed to be realizing it: she pinned George back and forced some of his own peanuts into his mouth, and soon he would be sharing her fate. Ginny and Harry were trying to have a conversation, but kept getting interrupted by more of the peanuts, courtesy of Fred Weasley. One hit Harry on the nose and Ginny laughed, gathering what she could find on the table and launching them back at Fred.

Katya Stevenson, the Ravenclaw daydreamer, was sitting at the counter with two of her constant companions, her usual dreamy expression gone, a wide grin and laughing eyes in its place. Professors Flitwick, Snape and McGonagall were seated at the table by the front window, involved in their Butterbeers. And at the cozy wall booth in the back-

"Charlie!" Anya exclaimed happily, wrapping her arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek. "I've missed you!"

He grinned. "Likewise." He gestured over her shoulder with one hand. "Decided to bring Sirius and Leon with you, I suppose?"

"Oh, you should talk about bringing guests," she chided, shaking her finger at him and shaking hands enthusiastically with the woman he had his other arm around. "You must be Chloë. Charlie's afraid to tell me about you. That's always a good sign."

Charlie felt the back of his neck growing hot. Sometimes, it was an inconvenience to be a Weasley.

"Charmed, I'm sure," Chloë answered, smiling. "Although I have to say that Charlie sure talks about you a lot, whatever that may imply."

Anya laughed and turned back to Charlie. "I like her. Treat her nice."

"Oh, definitely," he agreed, bending down to kiss Chloë. When they pulled apart, they were both smiling. "Butterbeer?" Charlie asked, leading her towards the table.

"Sounds good," Chloë agreed. "Although I do still have some _shopping_ to do…" Charlie groaned as she watched him, a teasing expression on her face. "Well, you don't expect me to miss out on the Halloween ball, do you? Who'd be your date? None of the other teachers would have you!"

"Sad but true," Charlie admitted, then lowered his voice, "Although, can you imagine the look on Snape's face if I asked him?"

The look of horror on her face said it all, and she laughed. "I'm so glad you're not serious."

"Me too," Sirius agreed, and Charlie wondered if he knew the pun was very old, or indeed if he was just referring to the Snape part. He didn't get up to greet them, as Leon had his fingers tangled in his hair. "How're you two doing?"

"Can't complain," Charlie answered with a grin, amused to see Chloë blush.

"That much was fairly obvious," Sirius commented dryly. "I seem to recall someone mentioning something about Bill and Anne being attached at the hip, and look how that ended. Or rather, began."

Chloë mock-glowered at him. "Quiet, you." But she winked discreetly at Charlie and squeezed his hand under the table. Another piece of him melted. "Besides, you really shouldn't talk about being attached at the hip. Or, indeed, anywhere."

"She has a point," Charlie said. "We aren't the ones living together, albeit in denial."*

"Who, us?" Anya asked demurely. "Surely you jest. I can't recall denying anything." She and Sirius shared a wink of their own.

__

Interesting, Charlie thought, raising a mental eyebrow. Maybe they weren't quite denying everything anymore. Which was good. It wasn't healthy, anyway.

The moment was interrupted by another outburst of laughter across the room- at the table where his siblings were sitting, both Ginny and Harry were blushing furiously with rueful but very obvious grins on their faces, while Ron and Fred were both looking a little between shocked, angry and wary. George, though, seemed to be reserving judgement on whatever-it-was; Charlie would talk with him later to find out what was going on.

"What do you suppose is going on between his sister and your godson?" Chloë asked mildly, a playful light in her eyes.

Sirius shook his head. "I'm not sure exactly what it is about this winter, but magic and romance both seem to abound." He glanced over at Anya again, but she was steadily avoiding his gaze.

__

Even more interesting. So she can dish it out without flinching, but can't take it? Charlie had to work to restrain his mind from coming up with devious little ways to get more details out of his friend. She hated that, at least when the details were about her.

"Anyway," Sirius continued, "he deserves some happiness if any of us does." Now he was avoiding Anya's gaze, too. Something was going on between them- or had, Charlie amended- that had scared and scarred them both badly. But what?

He didn't have a chance to ask, because Rosmerta appeared at that instant to take their orders, and the mood and thread of conversation were lost. But Charlie never forgot what he'd intended to ask, just saved up the question for a more appropriate date.

*

Harry Potter could not remember ever having been so nervous- not the previous year when he had asked Cho Chang, his onetime crush, to the Yule Ball, not at any point during the Triwizard Tournament, and not when he'd been certain Malfoy was about to set a creature from the Chamber of Secrets on the entire school.

He was taking Ginny _Weasley_, who was, as Ron had reminded him that day in Hogsmeade, Ron's _little _sister, to the Halloween Ball. In fact, he was supposed to meet her in the common room in less than ten minutes, and was really ready to go… except, emotionally, he wasn't sure if he could handle it. He had asked her to the Ball, which meant no escape if he did something extremely stupid- he certainly wasn't going to leave her alone. 

Harry finally forced himself to stop fidgeting with the hem of his dress robes- a soft black material, as he'd already outgrown his robes from the previous year- and made his way down the stairway to the common room. The butterflies in his stomach turned to lead. _I can't believe I'm doing this_. 

But he was. The trepidation built- there was almost no one in the common room; most couples had either already left or decided to meet somewhere else to avoid congestion in the Gryffindor common room. Fred was just stepping out of the portrait hole with Angelina, enormous and enamored and probably dangerous grins on both of their faces. Harry wondered how they could be so comfortable together when he constantly felt that he was treading on eggshells. There was a twinge of guilt for being preoccupied about something so trivial when there were other, much more important things that he should be worrying about-

And then he saw her and all coherent thought left him. She was fiddling with the silver trim on the hem of her right sleeve, her hair done up on top of her head. The dress robes that she was wearing looked familiar, and he realized that they were the ones that Hermione had worn the previous year, not that anyone else would have noticed - they'd been altered to fit Ginny's smaller form.She looked amazing.

"Wow," he breathed, fully aware that he was blushing. He wished he could say something more substantial, but words seemed to be failing him. "I mean," he amended, seeing that he was not the only one that seemed to be stained a permanent scarlet, "you look… wow."

Ginny looked up at him and, blush fading, managed a grin that made his knees wobbly. "Thanks," she said, her voice a lot steadier than his had been. "The sentiment is mutual." She bit her lip, "Shall we go?"

They did.

*

"Okay, what's eating you?" Chloë asked in his ear. They were dancing to some unnamable song, a rather nondescript one, and it was only just possible to find the beat properly.

"Mmm, nothing," Charlie replied, semi-distractedly, twirling an escaped lock of her hair around his index finger. "Just thinking…" He could see his sister and her date over the top of Chloë's head and while he was happy that she'd finally gotten her wish, there was something…

Chloë pulled back a bit, searching his eyes with her emerald ones. This immediately drew his attention from his sister: she could wait, and if Harry misbehaved, Charlie could beat him or give him detention later. "I don't believe that for one minute." She smiled. "You wouldn't be contemplating the messy demise of one Harry Potter, would you?"

He smiled ruefully and pulled her close again, resisting the urge to close his eyes and bury his face in her hair. "You know me too well." 

"Never," she replied, kissing him in what she undoubtedly knew was a very sensitive spot behind his jawbone. "Don't ruin this for your sister. Harry's a good kid; he'll behave himself."

"You're right. There are other things to worry about." Although he didn't particularly want to think about those, either. Tonight was a night for enjoying himself, and damned if his social life wasn't damaged enough already. At some point, Charlie realized that Harry and Ginny were no longer present in the Great Hall, but he was far too busy at the time to think anything of it.

The situation might have been different, had he known where they were.

*

"Time for a break," Ginny called, stepping a little away from Harry. "Julianne's horrible Muggle heels are killing my feet." She noted with some degree of gratefulness that this year, her date was _not_ the cause of the foot pain. 

"Take them off," Harry suggested with a grin. "I'm not ready to give you up yet."

She tried hard not to giggle and/or blush. It annoyed her to no end when other girls did those things. Instead, she just smiled. "Let's go for a walk instead, then. Maybe by some miracle my feet will become immune to these torture devices."

"Here's hoping," Harry said gamely, and (somewhat awkwardly, Ginny noticed with some degree of giddiness) took her hand. It was like she'd come into very close contact with pixie dust- her fingers zinged, her blood pounded, and she suddenly felt warm all over. It was a very stimulating sort of holding hands.

Although technically they weren't allowed outside, they ended up there anyway, standing on the steps of the castle and watching the Aurors go about their business below. Only the occasional shadow could be seen- they didn't exactly advertise their presence with lighted wands, and more often that not wore Invisibility Cloaks after dark.

What had been a thick layer of snow had dwindled to a light mantle over the grounds; where unmarred by footsteps it seemed as if it could be several inches deep, although it was barely more than one. Ginny shivered involuntarily, but the warm tingly feeling returned tenfold when Harry wrapped his arms around her in a sort of awkward almost-hug.

"Ginny?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, lowering his gaze noticeably. 

__

Oh my dear God, Ginny thought. _He's going to…_ She realized an answer was expected of her. "Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

Their noses were almost touching. "Oh, I hope so."

*

"I think the party's over," Charlie observed. The clock on the wall read just past one-thirty. Professors Snape and McGonagall had managed to shoo everyone out of the Great Hall, and Dumbledore had put in a short appearance in his dressing gown and tiger-striped Muggle slippers that growled when he walked to clean up the whole mess with a single sweep of his wand. 

"Is it?" Chloë answered from behind him, her arms encircling his waist. He suppressed a shiver as she rested her head between his shoulderblades. 

"Maybe not," he said, suddenly very keenly aware that they were the only two left in the Great Hall. Extricating himself from her arms, he turned around and took her hands, resting his forehead against hers. "Am I to take it that this party has your permission to continue?" A teasingly soft kiss on the lips, chin, along her jawbone, neck, throat, was that her pulse or his that was racing? _Both_ made more sense.

"Yeah, but I'd say this party had better move to a more remote location," she gasped out, "and um… that feels wonderful, but you might want to censor that because presumably there are other amorous couples wandering the corridors-" 

He silenced her with a kiss, and this time he wasn't teasing. "We'll just have to be careful, then, won't we?"

"You think I can be careful?" she asked breathlessly with a gleam in her eye.

"I guess we'll find out, won't we?"

   [1]: http://pub79.ezboard.com/uloneastronomer.showPublicProfile?language=EN
   [2]: mailto:kvries23@yahoo.com



	13. November

Lion13 __

The Lion and the Unicorn

Chapter Thirteen: November (13/?)

Author: Lone Astronomer (e-mail me at: kvries23@yahoo.com) 

Category: Romance/Action/Adventure

Keywords: Charlie, Sirius, Hogwarts, Order of the Phoenix, Gaelic legends

Spoilers: All four novels and the first twelve chapters of TLATU

Rating: PG-13

Summary: It's now November- there's an attack, Leon has chicken pox, Sirius has a revelation, Harry (with a little help from a friend) figures out the link between him and Ginny, Ginny gets angry, Sirius is frustrated, and I get to torture Bill. All wrapped up in one neat little package.

Disclaimer:This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.Carrot Ironfoundersson has been beamed out of Dimension 'Discworld' ® and transplanted into the British wizarding community. He is the property of Terry Pratchett and Victor Gollancz ltd.; ditto for his girlfriend Angua.

Author's Note: I tried to keep him out of it, JK, I really did. But he got in anyway. Some People Are Just Like That.

For Zsenya, for Never-Ending Patience & Outstanding Helpfulness in the Creation & Advancement of Nonprofit Fanfiction Even Under Stress of Sister's Wedding: Order of the Brilliant Beta, First Class!

Who To Blame: The Magical Hair Police are somewhat to blame for random happenings in this particular chapter. You don't like it, talk to them. (http://www.werewolfregistry.net)

Who Else To Blame: Me, for making up the whole bloody wizard wedding business. It sort of ties in with everything else I've made up. Sort of.

__

*

"Leaves turned to fire float by  
Startle the brilliant sky  
The love we were granted,  
Enchanted;  
Yet fated to die  
…I poke the fire anew  
In flickers of golden blue  
There in the embers   
Remember  
November, and you."

-November, by Alegre Correa and Dardis McNamee

*

"Harry, do you realize where we are?" Ginny asked in the inky black darkness, stifling a giggle. It would not do to be caught out of bounds early in the morning hours of the first of November. Still, it was sort of ironic. Peeves had just floated down the hall, and to avoid being caught, they'd taken refuge behind one of the many wall-hangings that served both to keep the castle warmer and as decoration.

"Yeah," Harry whispered back. Ginny inferred from his tone that the irony of the situation hadn't occurred to him yet. "We're behind the tapestry in the," she pinpointed the moment realization dawned on him, "Charms corridor. Oh…"

She grinned. "Too bad we never did anything to deserve that detention." This was fun. She had almost forgotten all about whatever it was that she was supposed to be pondering… ah, the dreams, the book, the Gaelic and how she could speak it. She'd had a rather in-depth conversation with Seamus in Gaelic the other day without even meaning to. 

"Hm," said Harry. "Well, we've done the time…" His nose was centimeters from hers when there was a noise in the hallway. She felt him freeze.

"Is that…?" she whispered, not daring to say more lest they be discovered. There were two discernible sets of footsteps, two low voices, and a lot of giggling and moaning. _We are not hearing this_, Ginny's ears insisted. _We're not. We're just going to forget that we heard anything._

"It _sounded_ like Charlie," Harry said when the moaning had faded out of earshot. They slid out from behind the tapestry. 

"It sounded like he wasn't alone," Ginny said dryly, shaking her head. "Although I suppose it's high time he was over Anya."

"Anya and Charlie?" Harry asked, sounding almost incredulous. Ginny wasn't quite sure if she was reading sarcasm or not. "We should be getting back to the Tower," he pointed out, bringing out the Invisibility Cloak and tucking her under it with him. She was still tingling with the discovery that he had one. It had _possibilities_.

"Yes," Ginny answered, "to both questions. What's so hard to believe about Anya and Charlie?"

She felt him shrug as they began to walk back to their common room. "I don't know. I guess they seemed like such good friends that I never thought there was something romantic going on between them. That, and the fact that I think Anya has a thing for Sirius."

This time, she did giggle. "Well, it was a few years ago, you know. Besides, Ron and Hermione are good friends and you weren't the least bit surprised when Ron asked her to the ball."

Harry snickered. "Yeah, but I heard them fight about it last year. After that there could be no possible doubt." And then, "At least, I didn't have any. It was more difficult convincing Ron."

"I can imagine," she replied dryly. "He's about as easy to reason with as the business end of a Blast-Ended Skrewt." They passed a window, and she noted curiously as they did that there were spots of light wandering around this time. Usually, the Aurors preferred darkness. She supposed it was because of the Halloween Ball; amorous couples more adventurous than they would be able to see where the Aurors were and avoid them, thus avoiding embarrassment and expulsion. They were a congenial lot, the Aurors. She also noted that most of the snow on the ground had melted. "The pitch should be cleared," Ginny commented, waving half-heartedly to the portrait of Sir Cadogan as they walked. "Do you think we'll get to play a match before Christmas?"

"I hope so," Harry answered. "I'd hate to think all that practicing we did this summer was for nothing." The thread of conversation lasted until they got back to Gryffindor Tower. "Rumplestiltskin," Harry said to the Fat Lady, and the two of them stepped inside.

Ron and Hermione were asleep in one of the armchairs by the fire. Ginny smiled to herself, thinking how much better this ball had turned out than the last one for everyone involved. "Should we wake them up?" she asked, never intending to actually do it.

"Nah," Harry said. "Let them have their peace. It took them long enough to find it."

"True," Ginny agreed, sinking down into the armchair opposite them. She fought back a yawn, then closed her eyes. _What a day_. Huge amounts of excitement had nearly torn her apart. It was her birthday, after all, and not only had she been able to spend most of it with Harry, but _alone_ with Harry, _dancing_ with Harry, and yes, even _kissing_ Harry. And the birthday gifts that had showed up early that morning had been nothing to scoff at either. Charlie had gotten his hands on an old Silver Arrow and had completely restored it for her; Hermione had fittingly found a book of legends for her and Ron had amazed her with a brand-new chess set. Of the most significant people, this left only - 

"Gin?"

"Mmm," she answered, wondering if she looked as tired as she felt. She wished her brain would just cease functioning for a few minutes so she could get some sleep, but she knew she would be awake all night.

"I," Harry said, "Um, that is…" She opened her eyes. Harry Potter, once again unable to organize his thoughts because of her. The mere idea of it gave her a warm, fuzzy feeling, like being wrapped in the big quilt that her grandmother had made for her. In the firelight, she could make out Harry's outline, awkwardly proffering something. "Happy birthday," he finished. It sounded almost like a question. A little piece of her melted. Had it been just those few months ago that she'd denied her feelings for him? What had she been thinking?

"Thank you," she answered, tentatively reaching out and grasping the package. Gingerly, she untied the ribbons and pulled off the paper, a task made difficult by the fact that her fingers refused to stop shaking. When she pulled the flat, thin frame from its wrappings and held it in the firelight, all of her breath left her in a rush.

"I asked Dean to draw it for me," Harry explained quickly. "It's, er-"

"Harry," she squeaked, berating her voice for failing to function properly, "it's _wonderful_!" She jumped up from where she had been sitting and flung her arms around his neck. "It's perfect. Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome," Harry answered, managing to sound at the same time relieved and strangled. Ginny loosened her grip on his neck. 

In the armchair, Ron stirred. Suddenly aware that they were in the middle of the Gryffindor common room and that it was one-thirty in the morning, they broke apart awkwardly. "Er," Ginny said. "I'll see you in the morning?"

"Okay. Goodnight." But Harry didn't move from where he was standing, and after looking at him one more time, Ginny turned and ran up the winding stairs to the girls' dormitory, unable to wipe the smile from her face.

*

There were no offensive rays of sunlight to wake them, no insistent owls, and no blushing and embarrassed Prefects sent to do the duty. Under other circumstances this might have been a welcome divergence from the norm, but this time Dumbledore had gone too far in his employment of house-elves. 

"Mmph," Charlie protested. He had exactly no intentions whatsoever of leaving bed before ten o'clock that morning, and he knew by his infallible internal clock that it was only barely past four. Chloë seemed to agree; she hardly stirred at all but snuggled closer to him. 

"Professors sir and miss must wake up!" the elf wailed hysterically. "The Headmaster says it! There has been an attack, sir and miss!"

"What?!" Chloë exclaimed, suddenly wide awake. 

__

Damn, Charlie thought. "Where's everyone meeting?" he asked groggily, frantically trying to determine whereabouts his robes might have landed. He finally found them hanging off of the edge of the wardrobe and, by the time he had them on, had decided that trying to determine how they had got there would probably get him in trouble at that particular time.

"You is to meet in the Great Hall, Professor Wheezy, sir," the elf answered, looking, if possible, even more afraid than it had a few moments ago. Charlie spared milliseconds to pity it, despite the fact that it had disrupted his fun. "Tiny is going now, sir and miss…" and it dashed out even faster than it had appeared.

Chloë was already ready to go, too, cinching her bathrobe tightly around her waist and pulling on comfortable-looking knitted slippers. "Let's go."

*

There was already a good selection of people in the Great Hall, McGonagall reflected, but it wasn't quite enough. Each House's Prefects had been roused and summoned, nearly all of the teachers were there, as well as Mr. Filch and Madam Pomfrey, and one of the Special Operatives was still there, talking with a small group of teachers and Professor Dumbledore. 

Dumbledore himself, she knew, probably wouldn't want to stay in the comparative safety of the castle much longer, but the man was an icon, and right now what the Order of the Phoenix needed most was a strong and capable leader. 

She would be the one going out there, soon enough.

A loud coughing fit- Severus Snape's- grabbed her attention, and McGonagall turned to face the door. _Ah_, she thought to herself dryly. _Fashionably late for the party, are we?_ Chloë Sanderson and Charlie Weasley had finally shown up, rather conspicuously as the former was wearing her bathrobe and the latter, his dress robes from the Halloween Ball. She shook her head. Young people. Yet you couldn't blame them, really.

"What's going on?" Charlie asked. 

McGonagall detachedly noticed that he happened to have a small bruise forming below his ear, but decided it would probably be less than tactful to mention it. "Talk to him," she said, motioning towards the tall, well-built Special Op. Despite the situation, he was not hysterical like a green recruit should be and seemed to be having a very lively conversation with Professor Snape, who looked as if he were trying desperately to escape but was so horrified that he couldn't move. 

"Hey," Charlie said, "I know him. Isn't that-"

The Special Operative, who McGonagall privately thought looked an awful lot like the recruitment poster, sans the blond hair, noticed Charlie and excused himself from his unwilling audience. "Hello, Charlie," he said amiably, proffering his hand. Charlie shook it blankly. "Long time, no see. How's the new job coming along?"

"Fine, thank you, Carrot," Charlie answered. McGonagall fought back a smile that threatened to ruin her stern image. 'Carrot' certainly fit the man. He was roughly carrot-shaped, anyway, and the orange hair definitely helped the simile. "Might I ask what you're doing here?"

"Oh, I'm working for the MLES now," Carrot said good-naturedly. "Special Ops division."

"Er," Charlie said articulately. "Carrot, has the fact that you're a Muggle managed to escape your attention?"

__

A what? McGonagall thought. _What does Moody think he's doing, employing Muggles in this field? Has he _completely_ lost his mind?_

"Wait a second," Chloë broke in. "The Special Ops carries all sorts, right? Remus is working there, after all. They needed him for a certain branch of Defense and Subterfuge. So maybe they need to employ Muggles for something?" She was giving him a look that suggested he already knew what for she was talking about.

Realization seemed to dawn on Charlie. "Never mind. You've always been rather good with a crossbow, haven't you?" He sighed. "Two questions: Do you have an extra one, and how many are we up against?"

"Oh, you don't need to go out there now," Carrot answered. "It's all under control."

Charlie looked like he was going to strangle somebody, but said nothing. McGonagall just stared at the space directly behind the Special Op. Who on earth…

*

Carrot's offhand statement made complete sense roughly ten seconds after he had said it. A blonde woman Charlie remembered but whose name he had forgotten had just entered the Great Hall and everything suddenly clicked. She was tall, and muscular, and probably would have been very attractive if it hadn't been for the fact that she looked like she would bite the head off of anything that stood in her way. The image was aided by the fact that she had a very large crossbow slung over one shoulder and a quiver of wooden-shafted arrows over the other. The smile she gave Carrot was almost predatory- a given, as from what Charlie recalled she was born a werewolf.

"That's the last of them," she said to Carrot. 

"You didn't hurt them too badly, did you?" Charlie wasn't surprised to hear that this was spoken seriously. Carrot was like that.

"Well, they _are_ the bad guys," she pointed out, but she knew him well enough not to press the issue further. "The last of the vampires flew off, but the other ones just sort of," she shrugged, "disappeared."

Well, that wasn't good news. "But you can't Disapparate on Hogwarts grounds!" McGonagall protested.

Chloë snorted. "Apparently no one told them that." She looked at Charlie. "Drifters, d'you reckon?"

He nodded. "Sounds like it. We'll have to ask the Aurors." _Guess I can write off sleeping for this morning_, he thought. _Among other things._ Something completely random occurred to him. _And I'm going to have to ask Chloë about the Special Ops. _Something about that nagged at his mind and he remembered once again that he didn't know much about her past. It was a niggling little almost-doubt that was going to drive him to insanity if he didn't silence it soon. 

"In a minute," McGonagall said, "but first, Chloë, Mr. Weasley," she emphasized this and gave him a mildly reproving look, "I have to tell you that there are going to be rather a lot of sleep-deprived yet very _observant_ youngsters in here very soon. May I suggest that a change of clothing might be appropriate?"

Charlie looked down at his robes and realized that he probably wasn't making a very good impression. 

Carrot coughed politely and looked away. Angua was hiding a smile, albeit poorly. 

McGonagall's face was absolutely unreadable, which was a shame. Charlie really would've liked to know what she thought about this particular development. Well, it could wait. "Right," he said, "Good idea." He was suddenly convinced that his neck was on fire. He rubbed at it distractedly.

Chloë was laughing. He raised an eyebrow. "What's so funny?"

She directed his gaze to the Potions Professor. "We're not the only ones caught off-guard this morning," she observed. Severus Snape was wearing a pair of very horrible neon pink and green argyle socks.

Angelina Johnson, who somehow had made Prefect even though she had a habit of hanging around with Charlie's brothers (Fred in particular, if Charlie recalled one particular scene from that summer correctly), was standing several paces behind the Potions Professor with a very neutral expression. She waved at him when she saw that he was looking.

"Those would go rather well with Sirius' kilt, I think," Charlie commented, and was rewarded with McGonagall turning a very interesting shade of purple. This incident, while not well-known outside the confines of Dromore House, had also occurred that summer, when Remus and Harry had seriously outdone themselves thinking of ways to humiliate Sirius. They also had photographs, which, to Anya's mirth and delight, had the habit of surfacing every once in a while in the strangest places, like above the hearth in the sitting room, on the refrigerator, and in the frames in the front passageway, usually when company was expected. It was something of a running gag among the house's occupants.

"You'll have to tell me that story sometime," Chloë said. "But not now. I'm sensing the imminent influx of tired teenagers."

"Right, then," he said, "let's go."

*

__

Thump. He stumbled out of the fireplace, shaking his head to clear away the initial disorientation (which didn't work terribly well), and straightened up, promptly smacking his head on the mantelpiece and cursing.

"Remus?"

He became aware of two other people in the room as the soot cleared away from his nasal passages: very definitely Sirius and Anya. They seemed, almost unconsciously, to move apart on the sofa as he set eyes upon them. Ah, yes. Even with everything going on, here at Dromore House the situation was going to be a fun experience. "It's me," he confirmed, rubbing his head. He considered asking what they were doing up so late, but decided against it.

"Where've you been?" Sirius demanded. Uh-oh. Was that impatience or accusation in his voice? "It's past four in the morning!"

"Yes, I was just about to point that out, actually," Remus said dryly. _No sense in both of us losing our tempers._ "I was on-duty. And as it turned out, we had a rather urgent call. What's _your_ excuse?"

"Leon's sick," Anya replied, sounding exhausted, worried, and miserable in equal proportions. "He's been up since midnight with a fever of some sort. Sirius thinks it might be chicken pox. We only just got him to go to sleep."

"Ah." Well, that was typical. These things had a disturbingly suspicious habit of happening at once. "He's… going to be alright?"

Anya nodded, yawning. "Arabella had some Fever Reducing Potion already made up, thank goodness. The only problem was getting him to drink it." She stood up and stretched, then rubbed her eyes. "Slytherin. I have to work in the morning!"

"It _is_ morning," Remus pointed out. "Go to bed."

"I'm going," she mumbled. "Good night, you two."

"Goodnight," Remus said softly. Sirius said nothing. Oh dear. This was going to be bad.

"Where?" Sirius demanded flatly. The expression on his face, combined with the chill in his voice and a pulse beating so strongly that Remus could hear it, set the werewolf's teeth on edge. This Sirius was not to be toyed with. This Sirius meant business.

"Hogwarts," Remus answered, and added quickly, "No students were hurt, and nothing got in the castle, or I would've said so before. The Aurors caught the threat and summoned us before it was too late, so-"

"Who were they?" Sirius asked, apparently having processed the rest of the information and catalogued it accordingly. "How many? Did you see Harry?"

Remus flopped down in a chair by the fireplace. He was suddenly acutely aware that his head was throbbing. "Drifters and vampires," he answered. "Don't ask me how the two go together- most likely they just happened to be the ones Voldemort thought best for the job. After all, vampires can fly and Drifter magic is powerful enough to-"

"They Appararated right onto Hogwarts grounds, didn't they?" Sirius broke in. "Why couldn't they get in the castle?"

"The same reason most of us couldn't," Remus answered tiredly. "There's some new wards up that keep anyone without a certain magical identification out of the castle. Only two Ops got passes to get in at all, so no, I didn't see Harry. And we don't know how many there were- it's difficult to count vampires once they've been slain and most of them just flew off again, anyway."

There was a long silence; Sirius took some time absorbing this new information and deciding what, exactly, it meant. Remus knew the next, and probably last, question wouldn't be long in coming. Sirius always saved the toughest question for last. "How many did we lose?" 

"Too many," Remus answered. If Sirius knew the number, whatever hope he had left would be sucked out of him. Sirius would never give up fighting, he wasn't designed for surrender, but sometimes he gave in to despair too easily. "We lost Sean and Elias McKay," he said as gently as he could. That was one thing that Sirius shouldn't have to learn from other people. He had quite a history with those two.

Sean McKay had been Sirius' Alternative Attacks instructor when he'd first joined the MLES as an Auror so many years ago. He had been a nimble old man with a strong Scottish accent and a mean left hook. He'd had an amazing talent for telling the most obscure jokes. Sean and Elias weren't related, but worked so closely together on most things that they had their own legend among Magical Law Enforcement officers. The McKay 'brothers' had the reputation of being the best men on the squad for tracking down criminals. They'd caught the Lestranges, the Adders, and at one point had been assigned to watch Lucius Malfoy. He still hadn't cottoned on. The credit for the apprehension of many a magical miscreant was theirs. 

And, ironically, they were the two who had brought Sirius in.

Sirius himself still hadn't reacted. Remus didn't know _how_ he expected Sirius to react, and he doubted Sirius knew what was expected of him, either. Finally, he managed an expression of complete shock. "Oh." He exhaled slowly and Remus could hear it shake. "Things are that bad, aren't they." It wasn't a question. Remus could hear a fly fart in a thunderstorm, and there was no question there.

"Yes," he answered anyway. Through the confused fog that had rolled in over his mind, Remus felt himself yawn. "Look, Sirius, you should go to bed. There's nothing more either of us can do tonight." 

He hadn't expected Sirius to agree so easily. He had a habit of brooding about things he had no control over. "You're right," he said at length. "Goodnight, Remus."

Remus replied in kind and listened to his friend's footsteps disappearing down the hallway. He was too tired to take his own advice and fell asleep on the couch two minutes later.

*

"All right," Chloë said finally, flopping down on one of the couches in the teachers' lounge. "How do _you_ know him?"

"Actually, we're sort of related," Charlie answered, pouring two potent drink and handing one to her as he sat down beside her. "Carrot was adopted by my second cousins when he was about two. They're Muggles- Squibs, that is- and unlikely as it may seem, one day he just showed up on their doorstep with a bundle of old stuff that barely hinted at who he was. Last I heard of him, he was training to be a Muggle police officer. I guess he got promoted." He took a long draught from his glass and sighed as the liquid warmed and loosened his muscles. "I guess you know him from the MLES?"

Chloë had been taking a sip of her own drink and had inadvertently inhaled some when she'd heard the question. Through the coughing fits, she managed, "How did you know?"

"It wasn't hard to figure out," Charlie admitted, taking her drink out of her hands and patting her back until she finished coughing. "I should have thought of it sooner, but I guess I never really thought about it. Otherwise how would Moody have known to recommend you? You had to have ties to the Ministry somehow; they don't give the Defense position to just anyone anymore." 

"Fair enough," Chloë said, leaning back onto him. "I spent four years there, two apprenticing and two practicing, but…" She sighed. "I never really fit in. I could handle the work, and the hours, and the stress fine. But sometimes a mission went sour and sometimes it was my fault, and I couldn't hack that. The MLES is no place for clumsy people." So that's how it was. Charlie kissed the crown of her head as she continued. "After a while I just needed to get out. Alastor Moody was acting head of my detachment at the time and I talked to him about it. I couldn't quit because I needed the money, but then I got this great job offer by owl post and here I am." 

"Do you regret leaving?" Charlie asked after a while. The bit about needing money was a bit puzzling. Hadn't she told him that her parents were rather wealthy? He yawned. The fire was burning low and had cast the lounge into a sort of reddish-orange darkness. It was making him sleepy, which wasn't terribly hard to understand.

"No," she answered. He got the feeling that she was as close to unconsciousness as he was. "How could I?"

"I'm glad," he said softly, ignoring the question. "I don't regret it, either."

*

"It's chicken pox," Arabella confirmed after a lengthy examination. Poor Leon looked absolutely miserable. His fever had gone down slightly from last night, but he'd broken out in tiny little red spots and, by the way that he scratching them, they itched like the dickens. No pun intended, Sirius thought dryly. Arabella Summoned something in a white squeeze tube and handed it to him. "Don't let him scratch too much if you can help it, and put this on him every once in a while. It should calm the itching."

Anya nodded. "Thanks for looking after him." Despite the dark circles under her eyes, she was just about to go off to work. By the way she was swaying on her feet, she wouldn't even last until lunchtime. "I should go. I'm going to be late-"

"Not so fast," Sirius said, catching her arm and turning her around before she could leave the kitchen. "You are obviously too exhausted to go into the office today. Take some time off for once."

"You know I can't do that. The DMLE still hasn't gotten _your paperwork_ processed and they won't bother to have it before Christmas unless someone bugs them about it and there's so much to _do_-"

He moved his hand from his arm to her forehead. She was definitely too warm. _As I suspected_, he thought darkly. "Anya, have you ever had chicken pox?"

She looked a bit disoriented by the sudden change of topic. "No. Sidhe have strong immune systems and I never-"

"Leon has chicken pox, Anya," Sirius pointed out.

Anya was getting exasperated. "Yes, but Leon's a baby, chicken pox is a childhood disease, and besides, I feel fine. Now let me go. I have to go to work!" She didn't sound as aggravated as she should. The illness was wearing her down already, then.

"You're not going anywhere," he argued. "You're sick. Go to bed."

Arabella discreetly left the room, taking Leon with her.

"They need me at the office!" Anya insisted. "I can't just skive off! It's not like Potions class, Sirius-"

Completely fed up with reasoning, Sirius made a decision. He stepped closer, catching both of her hands in his, and interrupted her sentence by pressing his lips to hers. 

The ensuing silence could have shattered glass. Anya's mouth was still slightly open and she was staring at him with a disbelieving look on her face. "You're sick and you're staying home. Do you want to start a strain of Sidhe-strength chicken pox? And don't think I don't know that the Ministry has rules about coming in for work with highly contagious sicknesses."

Anya had finally managed to get her mouth closed. "You fight dirty," she complained.

Sirius swallowed a smile. "You're right. I'm sorry, I'll never do it again." He noted with some degree of satisfaction that she didn't seem to like this, either. 

"I- You- I-" Anya stopped for a moment, revised what she was going to say, and continued, "This is something of a lose-lose situation, isn't it?"

He mock-glowered at her. "Bed," he growled. "Now. Or I'll carry you. And I can't guarantee that I'll leave the room after."

"Why does that not surprise me?" But she was defeated, and she seemed to know it. "All right, I'll stay home. Just let me write an owl to my boss. I promise I'll keep it under two hundred words," she soothed when she saw his irritated expression. 

"All right, but don't blame me if you get a cramp," he rejoined, shaking his head and managing to keep a straight face. "And go to sleep. No work stuff."

She made an exasperated noise, but he noticed that she swayed a little bit as she left the kitchen. He waited until she was out of earshot before saying, "So how long have you been standing there?"

Arabella stepped out from behind the other door, looking only slightly abashed. "Long enough. Good tactic, by the way. I haven't seen it executed so well before." She grinned wickedly. "You messed up, though."

Sirius was definitely beginning to regret having started this conversation. It had turned against him and it hadn't even been going on for thirty seconds yet. First of all, he could feel his cheeks getting pink. He was almost thirty-seven years old, although admittedly he'd missed a few years of crucial development. Still, he felt like such a juvenile when Arabella teased him. It probably had something to do with her being older and wiser, and him actually recognizing it this time instead of being disrespectful to his elders. Secondly, he was pretty sure he'd been insulted. "How so?" he managed, trying to school his features into a more neutral expression.

"You _meant_ it."

Sirius blinked and suddenly, as the words sank in, he felt the need to sit down. He knew very well that he'd had the chicken pox when he was seven, but he was definitely getting some of the symptoms. Like hot flashes and the desire to step out of his skin for a moment and assess the situation from an impartial viewpoint. "I… What?" Was the floor spinning? Oh, Merlin, how had he let this happen? He _couldn't_ have- well, obviously he had, but why now? Why had he not realized it before? _Hey, buddy, is this thing on?_ Oh dear. He was going to start answering his own questions, and there were some things that he just wasn't ready to hear. _Great, just let me casually mention a few things, here. You do realize you've had me turned off for the past few weeks? Can't a brain get a thought in edgewise? You've been running on adrenaline for almost a month, which isn't necessarily the wisest thing in your condition. The fact is, Padfoot, that you didn't realize fully until now because you didn't want to. You thought she was just your friend, maybe? Then what was all the flirting about? You just _used_ me to think up bizarre come-on lines and didn't even listen to the warnings I was giving you. And- hey, are you listening…_

"…to me?" Arabella was giving him one of her looks. He wasn't sure which one this one was, because his brain seemed to have mutinied on him, but it looked like a cross between pity, annoyance and compassion. _What a bizarre combination_. 

"I'm sorry?"

"You haven't heard a word I've said, have you?" she asked sympathetically, waving her wand hand. The chair beside the one Sirius was leaning on slid back and he flopped down into it. 

"I meant it," he whispered, staring at his hands on the tabletop. _Jingo._

"Indeed?" Arabella asked, sounding as if she were biting back a smile. Sirius looked up and discovered that she was. "I never would have guessed." It was uncanny, the way she resembled Albus Dumbledore at that moment. She patted his arm comfortingly. "Maybe Anya's not the only one who needs a little sleep."

"I _mean_ it," Sirius repeated. There was a disturbing ring of fuzz around his field of vision. Suddenly sleep didn't sound like such a bad idea. 

"Yes, you do. Now, I suggest you run off and play your piano before you have some sort of overload, hmm? Or sleep. I'll take care of Leon." She paused for a moment. "_You_ can take care of Anya, but later, I think." She made shooing motions with her hands, ushering him out of the kitchen. "Be gone with you! Go ponder the meaning of your life, and don't come back until you know there is no right answer!"

*

November, having begun with a bang reminiscent of a bad-tempered helium balloon being chased by a swarm of angry wasps, did not show any immediate signs of slowing down. By the third, all the snow had melted and Quidditch practices were allowed again. A match was set for the thirteenth, Ravenclaw versus Slytherin, and even though they weren't going to be playing right away, the Gryffindor team was psyched. Because Madam Hooch insisted on being fair, each team had the field for practice twice a week, which was not quite as good as having a monopoly on the pitch, but a whole lot better than it had been a few weeks ago.

There were also, Harry reflected miserably, O.W.L.s to study for this year. It was hard to squeeze in with homework, Ginny, Quidditch, and trying to figure out what the heck was going on with the whole Gaelic business, but it was necessary. Chances were good that he would have even less time to study for them as the year progressed- it had been so with every single year he'd been at Hogwarts. His scar hadn't been giving him too much trouble since the summer, but he didn't trust that one bit. He knew very well that Voldemort was back in almost full power, as evidenced by the goings-on after the Halloween Ball, among other things. It was merely a matter of figuring out when he was planning on striking next, and how on Earth Harry was going to stop it from happening.

Then there was the disturbing matter of not knowing what 'it' was, and how it related to (or failed to relate to) the bizarre dreams, the Gaelic legends, and, above all, the life-spans of his friends and the closer friends that he considered his family. It was fairly obvious that, whatever it was, it had something to do with violence and blood, and probably some Drifters thrown in for good measure. That meant chaos, and powerful Old Magic, not to mention serious difficulties for whoever was going to stop him. Harry had the sneaking suspicion that that someone was going to have to be him again.

He must have been concentrating pretty fiercely on not reading, because the next thing he knew, Hermione was lifting the book from under his nose. "Honestly, Harry, don't pretend to be studying for my sake," she chided, smiling slightly as she eased it shut. "As Ron is so fond of pointing out, even I can't go on like that forever without getting distracted. What's eating you? You haven't turned a page in half an hour!"

__

I haven't even looked _at the page in half an hour! _Harry attempted a smile, getting the sinking sensation that he was failing miserably. "It's probably nothing," he said, trying to look reassuring if he couldn't quite accomplish cheerful. "Just stress from having so much homework."

"Uh huh," Hermione said skeptically, pulling out the chair next to his and sitting down, looking him right in the eye. "Why do I find that so hard to swallow? Harry, I'm your friend and I want to help you, so you might as well just reveal all because I'm going to find out one way or another, anyway."

"That's not exactly encouraging, Hermione," he said tiredly. Months of keeping up a façade were starting to wear on him. "I'd really prefer that I keep everyone out of it that I can."

"Interesting," said Hermione, "you don't seem to be keeping Ginny in the dark at all. Unless you count the tapestry in the Charms corridor as 'in the dark.'"

"That's different," Harry objected. 

"You're right, it is," she replied softly, her voice taking on an almost dangerous tone. "Because Ginny's a part of this, isn't she? A part of _you_."

Harry's mouth dropped open. "You-"

"You," Hermione said, poking him in the chest with an accusatory finger and talking over him but still making sure to keep quiet enough to keep Madam Pince satisfied, "Are incredibly hopeless. _I_ suggested the extra studying. _I _gave you the book on Protection Charms, under the pretense that your Charmwork is almost disgraceful. Harry, I couldn't have been more obvious if I'd hung a big neon sign around my neck!"

Harry was suddenly very lost. "What? What are you talking about?"

"The scar!" Hermione whispered loudly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Didn't you wonder where it came from? Didn't you stop to think that maybe the charms that protect you could be protecting someone else, too?"

"I-"

Hermione made a 'tuh'-ing sound and heaved the book open again. She flipped the pages almost recklessly, for Hermione anyway, stopping on page two hundred and thirty-seven, sliding the book across the table. "Obviously not, so I'm going to help you out a bit." She stood up and collected her books. "I'll be in the common room when you want to talk."

Harry watched her go with a completely stunned expression. What had just happened? Had Hermione just given up on waiting for him to ask the question and given him the answer to what he didn't know he was asking? (The logic, or lack thereof, behind Harry's thought process was, at the moment, somewhat circular.) Was this the missing piece of the puzzle? Harry looked down at the page.

__

Nasc Shaol Gailge 

Oh, good, he thought dryly, _something I can understand_. Ironically, the Irish side of the page was easier to read than the English equivalent, which contained words like 'verily,' 'oulde,' 'Magick,' and 'Thee.' Whoever had written the translation, Harry reflected, was playing fast and loose with grammar and spelling at the time. The Gaelic version was easily comprehensible so, making sure nobody was looking, he took off his glasses and began to read. There was startlingly little actual information to be gleaned.

__

Irish Bond of Life

Used to bind someone in mortal peril to the life force of another, the Irish Bond of Life starts in the middle of a magical channel between the two subjects and works away from there, protecting both of them. This magical channel can only be forged at the stroke of twelve on the thirty-first of October, and is dangerous because one cannot choose whom the first subject will Bind with. The second subject is always a baby whose exact birth-time is seven minutes before twelve on All Hallow's Eve. For obvious reasons, the last recorded attempt at this charm was in 1325.

See also: Binding, page 159.

Doing his best not to analyze what he had learned, Harry quickly flipped back to the general section on Binding Charms. There was even less there than he had anticipated.

__

The art of Binding, a very old and imprecise brand of magic, often irrevocably entangling the lives of those subject to it. The Charms themselves are complicated and often require very precise conditions. They are divided into two categories, short-term (Communication and Conjunction) and long-term (Life) Bonds. Communication Bonds, for example the Maglius Link Charm, popular among Magical Law Enforcement officers, can link two or more people for short periods of time to better co-ordinate their efforts. It is often confusing, however, and requires mental discipline, as one's thoughts, even those not relating to a situation or conversation, are often transferred to the others through the link. Conjunction Bonds are always spontaneous and occur when two wizards cast spells to the same end. Their influence lasts only moments, and sometimes dissipates after the desired effect has been achieved.

The rarest and most difficult Bonds, and those requiring the most precise conditions, are Life Bonds. Most have been made illegal for obvious reasons- some require human sacrifices, others are deadly if performed improperly. There is only one Life Bond that is still practiced, albeit rarely, and it can only exist if there is already a bond of true love between the practitioners, and that one will kill both of them if there isn't one.

See also: Maglius, page 201; Conjunctions, page 223; Life Bonds, page 237 

Harry stared down at the pages, bewildered. Random thoughts and ideas swirled in his head, never quite managing to manifest themselves into one solid, coherent idea. Finally he gave up on thinking completely and gathered his books. There was someone he had to see.

*

Harry climbed almost blindly through the portrait hole, hardly hearing the Fat Lady's comment about how pale he was. Hermione was sitting at a table far away from the commotion around the fire and looked up when he entered, probably expecting him, but he shook his head imperceptibly and walked past her.

He didn't see a head of flaming red hair among the noisy group of students clustered around the hearth, and decided that he was going to do something irrational and probably a little bit stupid: he went up to the fourth year girls' dormitory. 

The door was slightly ajar, but even so, when he pushed it open fully, the two girls lying at the foot of Ginny's bed, listening to her tell them some tale or other, which may or may not have been about Charlie, squealed and locked themselves in the bathroom. Harry, not fully in control of his actions, knocked on it politely. Four eyes peered out at him from around the door. "Yes?" one said timidly.

"Out," Harry said, pointing in the general direction of the stairwell. Then, remembering himself, he added, "Please." At their slothfulness in replying, "Or Ginny and I will treat you to a full-on snogfest that could possibly last until after-hours." Evidently the expression on his face or his uncharacteristic boldness was frightening, because they both scampered out of the dormitory as quickly as they could.

Ginny, to his sudden relief, did not look angry, but rather slightly amused, somewhat concerned, and very, very curious. She sat up straighter and smoothed the comforter over her legs, her eyes searching him for answers he didn't know how to give. "What did you find?" she asked urgently.

He sighed, not really knowing how he was going to explain. "Hermione gave me this a few days ago," he finally said. "I think she got tired of waiting for me to find my answers on my own. Or rather, she got tired of waiting for me to start asking the right questions." Harry flipped the book open to the marked page and handed it to Ginny. "She thinks…" his sentence was left unfinished.

Ginny, with the heavy text on her lap, was already scanning through the Gaelic side of the information with much gusto. When she had finished with the more general text on Binding, she closed the book gently and set it beside _Legende Gaeilge _on her nightstand. "That's us, isn't it?"

"Bugger," Harry said softly. "I was almost hoping you'd been born at noon." She almost smiled. That was almost good enough. "At least it explains some things."

"You know what this means, right?" Ginny said suddenly. "It means that unless… unless Voldemort gets both of us, he can't…"

Harry nodded slowly. And _that_ meant that Ginny was in more danger than even Harry had feared. "Voldemort can't find out," he said finally. "We have to find some way to keep you safe-"

"Keep _me_ safe?" Ginny retorted, and suddenly she wasn't the tired, confused young woman she'd been a minute ago but instead a rather angry one. "Listen to me, Harry Potter, I'm not the one who's almost gotten himself killed four years straight! I'm not the one who goes off looking for trouble! I'm not the one who everyone worries about constantly because I'm not the one who does stupid things on my own without any regard whatsoever for how other people might worry! I'm not a hero. I'm not the Boy Who Lived, and I don't want that." Her expression softened slightly as she said it. "I don't want that. But it will kill me if you go off alone again, and if you don't come back then I'm going to come after you, because I'd just as soon die as see you tortured every night in my dreams. Even if it means taking you with me. But it's not fair for me to have to make that choice, Harry, and I won't let you force me to make it! We are in this _together_ or not at all." With a guilty start, Harry realized that there was a hitch in her voice and unshed tears in her eyes. But Ginny held his gaze. "So it's your choice. All or nothing. No ifs, ands, or buts, no conditions, no prerequisites, and no backing down." Defiance burned in her chocolate eyes.

And suddenly Harry had a whole new perspective, a new surge of hope and the Dark Lord looked a lot less intimidating. Without a word, he reached out and took Ginny's small hand in his, pulling her close to him. Ginny's resolve broke and she let out a shuddering breath, and then she was crying softly into his shoulder and it was agony to see her in pain but there was nothing he could do to remedy the situation but vow to never, ever let himself or anyone else hurt her again.

*

"How're you feeling?"

Anya glared up at him. Short of tying her to the bed, Sirius had done everything in his power to keep her immobile and crazy for almost a week. "Fine," she growled. "I felt fine yesterday. No more spots. No more fever. No sneezing, no itching, and thank God no more soup. Can I please get up now?"

"That depends," Sirius replied, smiling slightly. "Are you going to pretend to be a human being and not bite my head off every time I show a little concern?"

Anya snorted. "Ha! You forget, I'm _not_ a human being. Hence my quick recovery from the chicken pox. I am going to Bill's wedding tomorrow whether you like it or not. Please don't make me go in a wheelchair and pajamas."

"Would I do that?" he asked innocently. "Besides, it'd be no fun without you. I'm not the most sociable man in the universe."

"So you're using me, is that it?"

She hadn't expected a sincere reply to that particular jab, but something half-hidden and very dangerous flashed in Sirius' eyes when she said it. "Never," he said quietly, not once breaking her gaze. And, strangely enough, she believed him.

__

What's gotten into him? Anya wondered, watching the sudden change of expression fade away. The last few days had been… educational. Instead of the incessant teasing that she normally got from him, Sirius had been almost… well, serious. The teasing was still there, but in smaller quantities, and sometimes she would catch him just staring at nothing. When she tried to ask him about it he evaded the questions and retreated to the piano, which would gush concertos and symphonies and music from the seventies for hours afterwards. She knew it helped him think, but what she really wanted was a look inside his head at what he was thinking. 

Evidently, though, he'd had enough time to think over whatever it was that was troubling him. He was back to normal, except the occasional outburst of unmasked character, and that was something of a relief. It meant that she didn't have to think about it, either.

"Are you planning on getting out of bed anytime today, sleepyhead?" he asked teasingly. "The rest of us had breakfast an hour ago."

She mock-glowered at him, but a reluctant grin broke through. "Does this mean I'm free from my prison?" she asked hopefully, throwing off the blankets and reaching for her slippers. 

"No more quarantine," Sirius agreed. "Unfortunately, you're going to have to keep your distance from Leon for a few days yet until your immune system has a chance to build up all the antibodies it needs. He's still contagious and you're still susceptible for a second bout."

"How is he?" she asked as they made their way into the kitchen. Her stomach growled for solid food and her nose notified her that there was still an omelet in the skillet. _Excellent_.

"I've seen worse," Sirius answered, grabbing a couple of glasses and a jug of orange juice from the fridge. She must have let the big question mark her mind was giving her show on her face, because he continued, "I used to volunteer at a sort of Muggle orphanage in the summertime. If there was one kid down with the pox, there were five. It can get a lot worse than what Leon has. It's usually fairly bad when it strikes so young, but he's lucky."

Anya didn't bother asking about the orphanage. For one thing, her mouth was full of delicious, solid food that required chewing. For another, and more importantly, Sirius had reasons that other people would never know. This was One Of Those Subjects, and with him, you'd have to drag the extra information out. Having just gotten over the chicken pox, Anya wasn't quite ready to try her luck on that. She knew that if she were patient, he would end up telling her anyway.

She felt Sirius' eyes on her and looked up curiously. "What?"

He had a very smug look on his face, yet at the same time it looked as if he were about to start laughing. "I kept you in bed for a week."

Anya's mouth dropped open. _I don't believe him!_ She reached over for newspaper Mundungus had left on the table and chased him around the table with it. "You are _incorrigible!_" she laughed as he skidded around the corner into the sitting room. "Unbelievable!" Sirius was laughing too hard to reply. He shielded himself with his hands when she backed him into a corner and swatted him repeatedly. 

"Mercy!" Sirius yelled through his chuckles, "I give up, you win."

"And don't you forget it," Anya said, barely containing her grin and shaking her newspaper at him. She turned around and made a show of stalking back to the kitchen.

She never got there. Before she got to the door, Sirius had sneaked up behind her, snatched the newspaper away, and thrown her over one shoulder. His other hand was busy tickling- Sidhe were hopeless in tickle fights- her stomach, her knees, her ribcage- there was a short falling sensation and a _thump_ and she discovered she'd been dropped onto the couch. Then Sirius was tickling her again and she couldn't breathe; she had no chance to defend herself except to curl up into the fetal position and hope that it didn't expose more of her ticklish spots than normal.

That didn't work so well. Her muscles, oxygen-deprived and not having been exercised much in the past week, and still weak from being sick, hardly resisted when he pulled her knees down from her chest and trapped them under one arm. Anya tensed, knowing that this onslaught would be her undoing…

Cautiously, she relaxed her facial muscles and opened her eyes, wondering why she was not screaming for mercy. It took only seconds to become fully aware that she was still wearing only her pajamas (old flannelette ones with blue teddy bears), that Sirius was staring into her eyes with an embarrassing sort of intensity, and oh hell, add to that the fact that he seemed to be lying on top of her and it was no wonder that her whole body was on fire, was it? She tried to breathe in deeply to get rid of the falling sensation, but found herself quite unable to perform even so basic a task.

Sirius' hand rose, seemingly of its own accord, and brushed gently against her cheek. _No_, she thought to herself. _Not here. Not now, not like this. Please not now_. She couldn't just sit still. She had to _go_- had to move- _get out of the way_, but she couldn't escape his eyes, not when he was looking at her like that, and there was absolutely nothing at all she could do to prevent the inevitable. _Oh dear God please don't let him kiss me_. She closed her eyes.

The spell was broken. Two sudden exhalations and one mental thank-you later, Sirius stood up with a somewhat sullen apology and helped her to her feet. "Maybe we should play something that's neither a spectator nor a full body contact sport?" he suggested mildly, throwing a dark look in the general direction of the hallway Arabella had just fled down.

It took Anya a bit longer to reorient herself. Her feet didn't seem to want to support her. She had the sudden desire to run, but there was nowhere to go and nothing to be accomplished by it. Instead, she said in a quiet but urgent, "I should leave," and managed to get out of the living room without running. She collapsed against the door to her bedroom, her head in her hands. "Why now?" she asked the air, but there was no reply other than silence.

*

"Harry! We're going to be late!"

Harry and Ron exchanged glances before checking the time. It was still a half an hour before they had to be at the Headmaster's office to catch the Portkey. "Do you reckon they enjoy seeing us squirm in our fancy clothes?" Ron asked, grimacing as he tried to fasten the tie Hermione had insisted he wear. 

"Probably as much as we enjoy seeing them in fancy clothes," muttered Harry under his breath. Apparently it wasn't quietly enough, because he soon had to dodge Ron's arm. He laughed at the expression on his friend's face. It looked like he didn't know whether he should be laughing or subjecting Harry to unspeakable tortures for making comments that could be interpreted as anything that had to do with Ginny. He still wasn't really used to the fact that his little sister and his best friend were an item.

"You're just lucky I have my dress robes on so I can't come after you," Ron said, giving up on the tie. "Do you know how to work these things? Why do I have to wear this with my dress robes? It will look ridiculous."

Harry shrugged. "Ask Hermione; it wasn't my idea. And I couldn't tie a tie to save my life, so you might as well ask Hermione how to do that, too."

"Right," said Ron. "Guess we shouldn't keep them waiting. Strange turn of events that we're the last ones ready." 

They descended the stairs to the common room. Ginny and Hermione were standing at the bottom of the stairs. Harry wasn't quite sure if he had imagined once hearing Sirius say something about women and being ready hours early for weddings and fashionably late for everything else, but he also wasn't about to say anything about it aloud. 

Ron was unsuccessfully trying to hide his tie in his pocket. "Ron," Hermione said, sounding just a little bit patronizing, "you'd better let me do that. Here." She snatched it from his hands and, after a few seconds of slightly fidgety work, had it fastened properly around his neck. Harry caught Ginny's eye and they both bit their cheeks to keep from laughing.

"Okay," Harry said finally, thinking that it was time Hermione took a big step away from Ron or just kissed him already, "shall we go?"

Neither of them moved.

"Excuse me?" Ginny said, moving so that she could see both of their profiles. She waved a hand between their faces. "Can we go now? Or do we have to wait for you two to snog before we can leave?"

Both Hermione and Ron turned a very intense shade of red and immediately stepped apart. Harry shook his head. They had no business taking so long to get together. It was driving him batty. "Right," Hermione said briskly. "I think- I think we should get to the Great Hall now…" And so, finally, they did.

*

"Are you nervous yet?" Charlie asked, reclining with his feet up on a chair. The ceremony was due to start in less than ten minutes, and Bill hadn't come out of the bathroom since he'd gotten there fifteen minutes ago. It was destined to be enough material to razz him about for years.

"No," Bill answered from the other side of the door. "Are you surprised?"

"No," Charlie said back, grinning to himself. Bill would be composed until the minute Anne walked into the room and then everything would go to the dogs. He was glad he had a front row seat. "How much time are you going to take in there, anyway?"

"Done!" Bill stuck his head out from around the door. "Now get over here and help me with this, would you?"

But Charlie's attention had been distracted from what should have been its primary objectives. "You cut your hair!" he exclaimed, very nearly losing his balance, as the chair was only on two legs. "How did Mum get you to do it?"

Charlie wasn't sure if Bill looked sheepish or smug. "Well… do you remember the first time Mum and I fought about my hair?" Bill asked, trying in vain to get his almost-but-not-quite-short 

He nodded. "She was so upset that you wouldn't let her cut it that she almost started a fire in the kitchen and then _you _said-" Charlie stopped in mid-sentence and started laughing. "You said that the day you cut your hair was the day you got married! And as I recall, you weren't terribly thrilled about that eventuality either. Mum really had her hands full with you that summer."

Bill sighed mournfully. "I'm not respectable, am I, Charlie? Anne said she'd die before marrying a respectable man."

"I don't think you've got anything to worry about," Charlie answered, shaking his head. Such wonderful material, and he didn't even have the heart to use it. "Now come on, I have the feeling someone's expecting you."

*

Bill was vaguely aware that there were other people in the room besides him, but they were unimportant. It wasn't really self-centered, it was just the opposite: his mind didn't want to accept the fact that he _was_ the center of attention. In some peripheral part of his consciousness he knew that Charlie was standing somewhere near him, and so was Jim, but suddenly that didn't matter because the door had opened and there was Hallie…

Behind her came Ginny, and then Anne's sister Claire. He was reasonably sure that they were all wearing the same color. If you'd asked him, though, he probably wouldn't have been able to identify it, because at that moment a final figure dressed in what was definitely white appeared in the doorway. Bill felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. She was perfect.

The rest of the ceremony passed in something of a blur. On some level he knew that Anne was grasping his hand rather tightly, and he had his wits about him enough to hope he wasn't crushing her fingers. They recited their vows, and he wasn't entirely sure of what he was saying, but if there were power behind words then these were some pretty potent ones because he was almost certain that Anne was crying. 

Wait a second, the priest was saying something. Bill tried to pay attention, but couldn't seem to tear himself away from the woman beside him. She was looking at him, too, somewhat expectantly, so he figured he was supposed to put the ring on her finger. She smiled and the nervous part of him disappeared. Unfortunately, this didn't leave much room for thought; although the what-ifs were gone, there was nothing in particular to replace them. Well, at least he'd stopped shaking.

There was another short exchange and then another ring, and the hard part was over. It was at this point that Bill got to be really glad that Anne had decided against a veil. Just extra bother, really. He kissed her and some emotion finally returned to him. Or, more accurately, all emotion returned to him but only one or two of them actually _mattered_ at that point. He thought he heard his mother crying and tried really hard not to laugh. It had begun.

*

"They look happy," someone commented dryly. 

Anya jabbed her elbow into his ribs. Sirius gave a yelp. "They _are_ happy. Look at them. If Bill smiles any wider the top half of his head is going to fall off. You can't fake that kind of emotion." 

That was probably the wrong thing to say; she sensed Sirius pause, look closer, and turn back again. When he spoke again, he was quieter and more reflective. "I expect you're right."

"Right about what?" Charlie asked, procuring two glasses of champagne and handing one to Chloë. They were soon joined by a handful more Weasleys and their counterparts. Fred and George, with their dates, seemed to be conspiring over the punchbowl at the next table over. Anya made a mental note not to drink anything pink. 

"That," Sirius said vaguely, gesturing to the happy couple. 

"Ah." Chloë smiled. "You could drop a bomb on this place and I don't think either of them would notice until the other started bleeding."

Charlie grimaced. "That was graphic."

"Yet true," Chloë pointed out. Then, "Good grief. Did Fred and Angelina dance like that at the Halloween Ball? That's got to be a health hazard."

Anya sought out the young couple and laughed when she found them. They were certainly being given a wide berth by the rest of the people at the reception. Luckily, Mrs. Weasley was busy talking to Bill- presumably about his hair, since she seemed to be gesturing wildly to it and half-laughing and still half-crying. She found herself grinning. "You were rather too preoccupied to notice how they were dancing at the ball, I take it." 

Charlie just grinned.

The musical sound of spoons on glasses filled the room suddenly, and Jim stood up on the makeshift stage. "Everyone! Can I have your attention, please!" Gradually, the tinkling and murmuring faded away into whispers. "I realize that this may be thought of as an old Muggle tradition," several people groaned, "but the groom's father insisted." There were snickers among the Weasley children. Arthur Weasley's obsession for all things Muggle was legendary. "So would all the eligible ladies please come up closer to the stage."

There was a general sensation of pushing and shoving towards the dais where the bride, groom, and best man were standing. Anya tensed- she could feel it coming…

"Aren't you going to-"

She raised a cynical eyebrow over her drink. "I am the furthest thing from eligible that you could possibly imagine, and if you even suggest that I could be classified a 'lady' I will laugh in your face." 

Sirius shrugged, looking a little bewildered and a little of something that she couldn't define. "Suit yourself."

A horde of giggly women of all ages congregated below the stage. There was no way in all the hells that Anya was going to submit herself to that. "Right," said Jim, "So the tradition is, whoever catches the bouquet is the next one to be married, am I right?" There was a general murmur of assent from those more familiar with Muggles. "Okay, then." He turned the stage over to Bill and Anne, who, with a wide smile, turned her back on her audience. 

"Ready?" 

Anya turned away from the scene. This part was _always_ embarrassing. 

And so it sort of surprised her when the bouquet landed in her champagne flute, sloshing the bubbling beverage over her fingers. She turned to Sirius, who was obviously trying really hard not to incur her wrath by laughing out loud with just about everyone else. "I really don't think this is funny," Anya warned him, removing the flowers from the glass and looking mournfully at the ruined alcohol. 

Charlie was one of the few who was wise enough not to laugh. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to know what he could get away with. "Congratulations," he said, eyes twinkling. "Anyone I know?"

"Maybe," she replied. "I don't even know if he's anyone _I _know." She grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter and deposited her own on the table. All of a sudden she needed to find someplace to think. Now, what to do with the damn flowers…

She mentally reprimanded herself on her choice. He was the only one who didn't seem to be paying anything any attention at all anymore. He certainly wasn't laughing. So she did the only thing she could think of. "Hold these for me?" she asked Sirius, and wandered away, wondering what on earth she was going to do now.

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	14. Lead Me Not Into Temptation

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The Lion and the Unicorn

Chapter Fourteen: Lead Me Not Into Temptation

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Author: Lone Astronomer (e-mail me at: kvries23@yahoo.com) 

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Category: Romance, Action/Adventure, also Mystery; heck, call it "General"

Spoilers: Everything

Keywords: Charlie Weasley, post-GoF, Order of the Phoenix, Gaelic legends

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. I've also been stealing from Billy Joel again. I just can't help myself. Sorry.

Rated PG-13

Summary: Everything comes together in one neat package.

Notes: There are places where you will all be biting your fingernails. I have none left, either. There are places where you will want to smack me or the characters over the head with a two-by-four. I've done that, too. There are even places where you will openly curse me with the Unforgivables. If you can't take suspense, wait until next chapter to read the end of this one. You've been warned: squickiness ahead. I'm no longer liable.

Thank yous: Foremost, Chupa, Hallie, Kali ma, Wren, and Zsenya (especially Z). Reviewers- Dennis, Thing1, Jane, Madhuri, JK, Hallie, Anne, The Frog, Julia Potter, RJ Anderson, Doctor Cornelius, Fwooper, Seereth, Roxy Cherub, Sweetfires, Robbie, Mrs. Remus Lupin, Josephine, Melody, Baal extremely evil, Kali ma, AVK/Anastasia, Lena K, KobeG, Jen Beckett, May all flamers burn themselves, Amanda Mancini, tl, Fallen, Hermione_77_, alistaer, Hermione_Misty, Lady of the Lillies, la2ur2a, Liza, LillyPhoenix, Lyta Padfoot, firebolt7, Wicky, teal llama, MoonSerpent/VolleyballKrazy, Juliette, SilverAngel, Trinity Day, Cali, Paperback Writer, DreamSpinner, AngieJ, Dolores, Madam Malkin, Mina, Maharani, Flourish, none, Tabbycat2000, Conga Drummer, Koisk, Maygwenda, Ayleeandra, Tessie, WildWood, anastacy, Wolf550e, Fae, Erica, Gemini, Ariel, 8u9io0, rebecca, Karen, Parker, Becky, goldgryffn99, Rina, Miggie, and Danielle. I think that's everyone.

*

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Take your time, think a lot, think of everything you've got  
For you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not.

-Cat Stevens,_ Father and Son _

*

There was no cleaner blue than in the shallow depths of the reflecting pool, yet Anya found her thoughts irrevocably clouded. Strains of music escaped the dance hall and floated their way over to her, but it did nothing to soothe her thoughts, regardless of how relaxing it was supposed to be. She _couldn't _relax. There had been so many signs lately that she could not, in good conscience, ignore them, but what she could do about it she had no idea. The scales were so perfectly balanced that the slightest ship could tip them either way. _I'm losing my mind,_ Anya thought morosely. _And worse, that's not all I'm losing._

There was a heavy exhalation from beside her as Sirius sat down on the bench. "These are yours, I think." He pressed the flowers into her hand.

"I'd rather they weren't," Anya replied despondently, refusing to look up at him. "They'll cause more grief than happiness, and not just for me."

Peripherally, she saw Sirius shrug. "Most things will." He tossed a pebble into the reflecting pool, warranting no ripples in the water but rather a precise hole in the ice. "What's gotten into you lately?"

She sighed, wondering if she should just tell him. Well, why not? He would find out eventually, anyway, wouldn't he? "I am going to die, Sirius."

Evidently, he hadn't been expecting her to answer just like that. The expression of confusion on his face was replaced by one of curiosity and obvious concern. "Come again?"

"You heard me."

She could practically hear him thinking. "We all have to go sometime," he began with difficulty.

Anya shook her head and pointed her bouquet at him. "Do you know what this means, Sirius?" she asked, waving it in front of his face. "Do you know what these are?"

"Er," said Sirius. "Flowers?" he ventured. "Supposedly signifying that you're going to be the next to get married, although frankly I don't see that happening anytime soon..."

"They're not just any flowers, Sirius," Anya said darkly. "They're Calla lilies."

He snorted. "Of course. How could I have missed that obvious fact. Calla lilies. So?"

"The death flower." She looked up at him. He didn't seem terribly surprised. But then, she reflected, he'd had a friend named Lily once, and look what had happened to her.

"So? It could just as easily be taken the other way-"

"There have been other signs," she interrupted.

"Besides, I thought you didn't believe in Divination," he finished.

"I don't," Anya answered morosely. "But I think it might believe in me."

A silence passed between them. A large clump of snow slid off of a tree bough not too far off, and spidery splinters of ice began closing the tiny hole Sirius had opened in the icy surface of the pond. Anya shivered, not because of the cold. Something was out there, watching. It would not stay watching for long.

"It's a horribly dry reception."

"I'm sure the guests of honor haven't noticed."

They lapsed into silence again, just losing themselves in the soft flow of the music. After a while Anya felt Sirius' hand cover her frozen fingertips. She glanced up, ready to say something, but Sirius silenced her with a look. "I know you don't like to be considered a lady," he said quietly. "Dance with me as a woman."

Well, if she were going to die anyway, why not? Her brain had chosen to ignore the unspoken connotations of Sirius' last two words but she nonetheless knew what he had been about to say and part of her was very much relieved that he had decided against the possessive pronoun. That he had almost said it was enough. So she let him take her hand and lead her back inside to the music and warmth and laughter, and she knew there was something else in the atmosphere, and she knew what it was, but that didn't mean she was going to admit it, even in her most secret of hearts. And even though she couldn't stop thinking about the less obvious meaning of nearly being decapitated by flying lilies, she didn't forget about the other possibilities.

*

"Think Molly gave up trying to convince Bill that it was proper to stay?"

Anya giggled. This was probably the combined result of too much champagne, too much excitement, and too many shocks to the system. People like Anya did not, as a rule, giggle. "Even she's not that much of a prude. Give the poor woman some credit- she does have seven children, after all."

Sirius laughed. When she put it that way... "Point taken. I suppose I should be the last one throwing stones."

"Don't worry, Sirius, you're not a prude. You're just romantically challenged."

"Thank you," he replied dryly. "That's very reassuring." 

"You still haven't answered my question, by the way."

Sirius, who had been sipping on his drink, nearly choked. "I wasn't exactly planning on answering it," he confessed falsely. He had every intention of telling her all about his past lovelife. Just not in a public place, and certainly not when she was almost, but not quite, drunk. There were other things that had to happen first, anyway. 

Anya wrinkled her nose at him. "Spoilsport."

"Oh, grow up." Hoping she'd forget all about it, he lifted her glass from her hand and set it on the table. "And while you're at it, you can dance with me again." He pulled her to her feet.

She rose willingly enough, but she wasn't about to let him get away with anything. "What happened to the legendary Gryffindor chivalry?" Anya asked innocently. "I thought it was only the barbaric Hufflepuff men that hit their women over the head and dragged them off into caves."

Sirius looked around. "I don't see any women _or_ any caves," he said, "more's the pity. I like caves. Ow!" Anya had deliberately trod on his foot. 

"You know, that's funny, because I seem to remember someone using a line involving women earlier and I could have sworn it was you. But come to think of it, it couldn't have been- he was much better looking."

Sirius tried to get his brain around this and failed. "Is this a win-win or a lose-lose situation?"

"I think that depends on how you reply."

"Hmm," Sirius bent his head down a little. "What if I just kiss you instead? Then do I win?" He grimaced. Anya had stomped on his toe again, all without a warning change of expression. "You know, I think Remus is more fun when he's drunk. Instead of physically trying to hurt me, he shoots off insults involving words he can't pronounce properly. Of course, getting him drunk will cost you a fortune in Irish whiskey."

"I imagine so. He does have a rather remarkable metabolism." Her eyes wandered off somewhere past his shoulder. "He seems to be having a good time without being plastered, though."

"What?" Sirius maneuvered her around so that he could see where she was looking. He was pretty sure that Remus wasn't actually _flirting_- Remus had damn good reasons not to do things like that, whether Sirius thought he was being excessively cautious or not- but to the untrained eye it _could_ have been, just maybe. Sirius thought it was about damn time Remus started being just a little more normal. None of them were going to live forever anyway- they might as well enjoy life while they still could. Hallie looked like she was, at least. "Well, who would have thought. He might be part human after all."

"You know you wouldn't want Remus to hear you say that," Anya reproved mildly, "Even if I know you didn't mean it the way it sounded."

"I almost never mean anything." Which was very definitely a lie, Sirius thought. Well, depending on how you took it. He had meant a whole slew of things that he'd said to Anya and she'd thought most of them were jokes, but that was just Anya- a little too cynical, sometimes. Or maybe she just didn't want to think about possible alternatives.

This time, however, she called him on it. "I don't believe that. You mean a lot more than you let on."

Sirius looked up sharply. If she knew what she was saying... But she didn't, he reminded himself. She was half-drunk and more than a little depressed and she couldn't be held accountable for anything she might say, which was a pity, because he was having a very hard time restraining himself from saying everything that was on _his_ mind. He _wanted_ to tell her: he was sure he would go crazy if he had to keep it from her much longer, and it was getting harder all the time. On the other hand, he didn't want to tell her until she was ready. He hated to see her upset, it did something indescribable to his mind, but more than that, the new understanding he seemed to have made one thing excessively clear: something had happened in Anya's past that had hurt her very badly. He wouldn't push her. "That might be true," he admitted. "But you're half-plastered and have no right to be making profound observations."

"No fair," Anya said, mock-scowling at him. "If not when I'm plastered, then _when_ am I supposed to make them?"

"I can think of at least one instance- you know, I can't imagine that the shoes you're wearing are comfortable. I mean, they're killing _me_ and I'm not even wearing them." 

"You had just better start saying things that you really mean and then maybe I won't have to remind you what kind of comments _you're_ not supposed to make." Anya punctuated this declaration with a yawn and Sirius realized for the first time how much of what she was doing was dancing and how much was swaying from pure exhaustion. 

"You should be home in bed," Sirius chided, unable to stop himself from pulling her closer. He knew Anya was too tired to resist. 

"That's the kind I mean," she mumbled against his shoulder. "Though to be honest, at least part of the offer is tempting." Sirius almost froze. Was she playing with his hair? No. She wouldn't do that unless she was completely out of it. Even then he suspected she had more self-control than he imagined. Maybe she really _was_ asleep on her feet. That might explain it...

"I think you've had enough excitement for one night," he finally ventured, mentally willing for her to stop. The hair on the back of his neck was standing straight up. "Are you ready to go home?"

Anya groaned. Sirius almost had to take a step backward to retain his dignity. "I don't have to Apparate, do I?"

"I should hope not. I promised Arabella I'd bring you back in one piece." Sirius smiled. "I'll Apparate us back, if you want; otherwise there's a fireplace in the next room."

Mercifully, Anya yawned again and stopped playing with his hair in order to cover her mouth. "If we Floo back, I'll get lost."

Sirius laughed. "I don't doubt it. Apparition it is, then. Although if we leave together, I am warning you, people will talk." 

She mumbled something that might have been "I don't care."

"I gathered that much. Hold on." Although that was probably unnecessary, since she was already doing so. Still, the extra closeness was nice. Sirius pulled out his wand and they Disapparated.

A split-second later they reappeared just outside the hedge at Dromore House. Sirius tucked his wand back into his sleeve, which unfortunately meant removing his arm from around Anya. "You know, you probably should have brought a cloak." She was shivering; it was cold outside and her dress, though on most women it would have been considered modest and even conservative, obviously left a lot to be desired where warmth was concerned. Sirius pulled off his own cloak and draped it around her shoulders. It was almost comically long on her, but she didn't seem to notice. 

"Probably," Anya agreed, almost casually falling back enough that Sirius could wrap an arm around her. He might have been out of practice, but he wasn't blind. He wondered how far she would take the charade and, not for the first time, how much alcohol she had actually consumed. "But-" 

Whatever she had been about to say died unsaid on her lips. There, on the porch beside the guard gnome, stood an exquisite garden figure that had not been there before. Granite wings spread, poised perfectly on her two legs, stood Mada Dymphna, a bit of parchment in her stone beak. 

Anya let out a strangled sound and pulled it out, unfurling it. On it were written three Gaelic words that Sirius could never mistake. _'It has begun.' _

She was stock still for a moment before holding the paper at arm's length and, if such a thing can be said, widening her eyes at it. _"Incendio._" Sirius could see that the charm was charring her hand, but Anya didn't seem to notice. She waited until it had crumpled to a fine ash and the wind had whisked away any remaining traces, then turned to the gnome and said steadily, "Ard Aon." It nodded to her and they stepped into the foyer.

Only after he had hung up his cloak did he notice that she was shaking. Arabella, for once, was nowhere in sight, which was ironic because Sirius was starting to become very interested in some of the symptoms associated with severe shock and he was sure that she could enlighten him, and even better, had some really good remedies. The next best, or perhaps better thing, was to offer the comfort himself, and even though he knew that he wasn't very good at it, he also knew that there weren't too many other options. _Well,_ he thought, _at least the sentiment is genuine_. Mada Dymphna had been a great owl, a good companion, for lack of a better word, and he knew that she had been in Anya's family for generations. Yet he knew that this was only the tip of the iceberg where weird signs were concerned, and he was beginning to get a very bad feeling about the whole messy business.

There was nothing he could do, however, and it is this that made him take Anya into his arms once again that evening. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "This really isn't your day, is it?"

Anya didn't answer right away, just buried her face in his robes. She finally asked, her voice muffled, "Do we have any more scotch?"

"No. We drank the last of it on Halloween. Not," Sirius added reprovingly, "that you need any more alcohol. I think you've had quite enough." 

"But I'm still conscious," Anya complained. 

"That problem is easily rectified," he said gently. "Come on, you need to sit down and drink a whole lot of water."

"Sidhe don't get hangovers."

Sirius snorted. "I suppose they don't get drunk, either. Sit," he commanded, helping her over to the sofa. "Sometimes you forget that you're not Wonderwoman. Disillusionment is never a whole lot of fun, but I know it's worse when everything starts happening at once." He conjured a glass of water and handed it to her, then sat down beside her and sighed. "I'm sure this won't be the last time I say this, but listen closely anyway- _you are not a Sidhe_. And I think you should be glad for that."

"Do you think there are any left?" she asked with a yawn, leaning heavily against him.

Sirius frowned. Their numbers were certainly not flourishing, but were they extinct entirely? He doubted it. It took a lot more than old age to kill a Sidhe. Still, they could just be getting old, and even Sidhe only had a certain number of decades before their childbearing years were over. "I don't know," he answered honestly. "I find it hard to believe that they've _all_ died out. Are you sure you want to talk about this?" She was still shaking.

"No," Anya answered quietly. "But I don't know if I can handle talking about everything else I should." She sighed and drained her glass of water. 

For the umpteenth time, Sirius found himself wondering what had done this to her. Something had her running scared- she jumped at shadows, she shied away from physical contact (when she wasn't drunk), and she seemed so convinced that her fate was sealed that she didn't even want to _think_ about any possible romantic future they might have. This last bit was not too hard for Sirius to swallow, but the fact of the matter was that he did think about it, very much, and if she didn't then he wanted to know why. He also knew that it was unfair to press her in this state and anyway all it was likely to do was get her very angry with him, which was generally considered hazardous to one's health. Deciding what Anya needed most was probably just gentle encouragement, he said, "If you want to try, I've got all night to listen."

She sighed deeply and Sirius could feel all of the resistance leave her body. "Two weeks ago I saw a Grim out by the stables. Part of the Dickinson tapestry is unraveling. Wild Calla lilies are growing in the garden, not to mention the ones from the wedding." She paused and quieted, as if drawing strength for what she was about to say. "And last night I heard my clan's banshee singing. I am going to _die_, Sirius."

This last declaration sent a chill down Sirius' spine and he shivered, almost tempted to turn around and check if someone had left the window open. Instead, he pulled her into his arms and pressed his lips to her hair. Anya's resolve broke and a single teardrop rolled down her cheek. He wiped it away before it could drip off of her chin. "I don't want to die. I'm not ready." 

"I don't want you to die, either." Sirius wondered if he should try to lighten the situation, but decided it probably wouldn't be appreciated. What _could_ he say? The evidence was damning and self-evident. 

"You don't have to say anything," she said, reading his mind. Her eyes were closed, probably to prevent further tears. "Just don't let me be alone."

"You know I could never do that, anyway." Anya nodded, or something like it. Her head bobbed up and down, but not in the controlled fashion generally associated with nodding. "I still think you should be in bed."

"I think I might agree with you." She opened her eyes again and looked up at him. Something in those eyes made him nervous, made him want to look away, but they trapped him and he couldn't move, could break the spell, couldn't do anything but stare and Merlin he _fell_...

As he fell so did his lips fall upon hers, softly and slowly, setting off a brilliant fireworks display behind his eyes. He felt Anya's fingers tangle in his hair once more and began to realize exactly what his hands had been doing without his leave even as they were talking. Everything was suddenly depicted in high relief, amazing, vibrant reds and blues and greens; they were snogging on the sofa in the middle of the living room and Remus would be back soon but he didn't care, couldn't care, couldn't even _think_...

*

Oh gods oh gods oh Aine, what was she doing? She was seducing Sirius Black on the sofa in her sitting room, yes she was! And this was probably not a good idea, for reasons she couldn't quite remember. There did seem to be a lot of reasons to go ahead with it. After all, if she was going to die anyway, why not have a little fun first? It wasn't as if Sirius was resisting; he easily wanted this as badly as she did. Which was the problem- she _did_ want this. She hadn't realized that before. Yet at the same time, she wanted so much _more_ than just this- what if she got what she wanted and it wasn't enough? Worse, what if it _was_ enough? Would she be able to live without it? Would Sirius?

Did she care? she wondered as their lips met again. These were kisses like she had never known before, tangy and addictive and warm and altogether too pleasant; they set her senses on fire and made her skin tingle with anticipation. Yes, she cared, she decided. But did she care enough?

Anya never answered her question as the intoxication of everything that was Sirius combined with the influence of the alcohol. Coherent thought flew right out the window. She and Sirius existed; there was nothing else. They were there. They were alive. They were-

Moving... how had that happened? Had she initiated it? She was pretty sure she had. They were headed towards her bedroom, anyway. No, scratch that. They had already reached the door; she knew because she was pressed up against it. Goddamn it, where was the stupid doorknob? 

Even as she found it, Sirius' hand closed over her own. He pulled away from her, leaving her with a feeling of something next to complete emptiness. "I can't," he said simply, averting his gaze. "I don't-"

"You don't _what_, Sirius? I thought you wanted this?" Her mind was swimming with possibilities. He couldn't leave her- he had promised...

She didn't realize that she had spoken aloud until he answered. "I know," he said quietly, showing absolutely no intentions of leaving. "I know. But we both know that if I go in there I am not coming out again until we both get what we want, and I'm not sure that that's the best thing for us." He sighed, looking particularly irresistible as he ran a hand through his hair. "There are so many things we need to talk about- this isn't just some simple affair..."

"And why can't it be?" Anya wanted to know, hands on her hips. "Why not? Everyone else has them, Sirius, why not us? Why are we so different? Do we deserve less? Why can't we have what other people have without thinking? Why can't we have a casual relationship?"

"Because of who we are!" Sirius practically shouted in response. "Because we aren't everyone else! Because of what we are relied upon to do! Of course we don't deserve less- we deserve so much _more_- and because, damnit, because I-"

"Don't you dare say it," Anya interrupted darkly. "Don't you _dare_- do you have any idea what this is doing to us already? Don't overcomplicate things! I am going to die, and you will go on with your life. A _normal_ life with Harry and, you're going to help him rid the world of Voldemort and teach him all about life and how to handle women and forget all about me because if you don't, I swear I am going to haunt you."

There was a long silence. "Well," Sirius finally said quietly. "That pretty much goes without saying." He took a step backwards. "Go to bed. I won't leave you. I promise I'll still be here in the morning." 

She shook herself mentally, never realizing how she was trembling, and let herself into her bedroom, giving in to the urge to simply slump against the door and stay there. She would have had lots of time to contemplate the rather drastic turn her life had just taken, but the alcohol and the hour finally took over and she fell into a very fitful sleep.

*

Sirius awoke later to light footsteps in the corridor. He could tell by the rhythm and the scuffling noises that it was a very tired Remus, who always dragged his feet after a long night out, no matter what form he took. The footsteps stopped a few meters away and in his mind's eye, Sirius saw Remus do a double take. "Padfoot? Is that you?"

"No," Sirius answered irritably. "It's bloody Chris Cringle. Who did you expect?"

"Someone in a better mood, given the events of several hours ago." Remus slid to the floor across the hall from him. "You screw up?"

Sirius scowled. "No."

"Ah," said Remus. "Right. But she's in there, isn't she?" He gestured to the door behind Sirius, who nodded. "And you're out here, right?" The scowl was called back for an encore, but Sirius nodded. "Well, there's only one thing to be concluded, then," Remus said. 

"Which is?"

"Sirius, I love you like a brother, and I will say this for you: you have an extraordinary sense of honor, but no matter what I tell you, one thing remains true: you, my friend, are an idiot."

"Thank you for that astute observation," Sirius said scathingly. "May I register my complete and utter lack of surprise. Remus, _everyone_ knows I'm an idiot- even me! Only Anya doesn't seem to understand. What am I going to do?" Besides lock her in her room and _make_ her understand. _This is fucking insane_._ That probably would have worked._

"Well, seeing as you're out here on your duff, I'm guessing 'tell the truth' is out of the running, right?" Remus said perceptively. "And I am certainly not in any place to give you advice on love. But if I were, I would quote you a quote from the world of Muggle writing- 'show, don't tell.'"

Sirius' eyes just about burst out of his head as he digested this. "You're _mad_," he said when he had finally regained his voice. "You think I should-"

"I think," interrupted Remus calmly, "that you have run fresh out of your own ideas."

Which was the truth, wasn't it? Sirius reflected. That was part of the reason he was so damned frustrated. He didn't even know what she wanted. "You know, even after I'd lived here a month, I still thought she had a thing for Charlie." And it could still be true. Was she looking for a substitute now that her best friend had found someone else? 

But Remus wasn't going to let him get away with meaningless self-pity. "I think you know the truth by now. And if not, well, the cat mews and the dog shall have its day."

"Whatever that means," Sirius said dourly. 

Remus chuckled. "Maybe you should sleep on it." He conjured a pillow and a blanket and tossed them across the hall. "I'm going to bed. Thank Merlin tomorrow is Sunday."

Sirius watched his friend's retreating back for a few seconds, wondering why it seemed like they had skipped over a crucial part of post-social event best friend banter. He only belatedly realized that he hadn't asked what Remus was doing out so late.

*

The day had dawned crisp and clear. Enough of the snow had melted away that the grass was easily visible and the effect was somewhat like frost. It was a good day for a Quidditch match.

Unfortunately, Harry's team would not be playing for another week. It was Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin, and they were evenly enough matched that the game would probably prove very interesting.

Also unfortunately, Hermione had insisted that they use the time to study for their History of Magic test. Ron and Harry had tried to talk her out of it, saying that they needed to observe the other teams' tactics and assess the threats posed, but Hermione had said in a matter of fact tone that this was the captain's job and they had just better think about what fun Malfoy would have if they failed the OWLs. It was for this reason that, while the rest of the school was out watching the first Quidditch match they'd had in a year and a half, Harry, Ron and Hermione were inside, studying.

Harry closed his book with a frustrated sigh. "There has got to be a more interesting version of all this," he said, stifling a yawn. Pathetic- it was only two in the afternoon. His dreams had been getting so much more vivid lately. "I'm going to the library." Besides, Ron and Hermione definitely needed the time alone. They _still_ hadn't gotten the point.

"Right," said Ron. "I'll just stay here then, shall I?"

Harry fought the urge to smile. It was easier than he had anticipated. "Good idea. Keep Hermione company." The next sentence hit him upside the head and even though he knew it would irritate Ron, he just _had_ to say it. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He held back a smirk at both of his friends' flushed faces until he was safely out of the common room.

The library was completely deserted, unsurprisingly. Even Madam Pince had taken a break from her constant looming and had her nose glued to the window, which had a fairly good view of the Quidditch pitch. Harry sat as far from her as possible. He wanted as much solitude as he could get, and even isolation from the game. What he needed was answers, and studying for Binns' dull class wasn't getting him anywhere.

As he leaned his head on his hands, Harry began to wonder if the tense muscles in his neck and upper back would give him a permanent hump. He was too young for chronic back problems. Instead of allowing his shoulders to hunch up uncomfortably, Harry slumped until his head rested on the table, hearing several cracks from the vicinity of his spine as he did so. He immediately felt better physically, but Harry was beginning to wonder if it was possible to crack his brain. He felt that there was something just beyond his reach that he couldn't identify, something that he should have remembered but that he couldn't place-

There was an audible pop and Madam Pince turned slightly, about to rebuke him, but probably realized that there was no real reason for absolute silence if he was the only one trying to work. She settled for giving him a dirty look, but Harry wasn't paying any attention. His History of Magic textbook had just appeared in front of him.

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Can I never escape? Harry wondered, glancing down at the open tome. It was turned to the same page they had studied the day that Harry had practically run out of class to see Professor Dumbledore about the missing Order of the Phoenix members- the chapter about the days of Galahad and the different sacred places in Ireland that its old inhabitants had once used. Strangely enough, Harry had done quite well on the end-of-chapter test they had had without really knowing anything. The test had come back with his name on it and in his handwriting, but he couldn't remember having written it.

The pages, much of their own accord, were flipping slowly in front of him, as if by some insubstantial fingers. They slowed and stopped, open to a page marked 'Significance of Faery Mounds.' Harry frowned. He knew this chapter by heart. Why…? But rather than wonder further, he turned his full attention to the old legends and began to read.

*

The Care of Magical Creatures class- fourth years- were sprawled out on rough blankets on the sodden ground, lazily sending sparks after the Glo-Pixies Charlie had them working with. He had wanted to start on gryffins and sphinx, but Bill's friend's shipment hadn't come in yet and the gryffin he'd ensnared in the Forbidden Forest had magically escaped the night before. 

Charlie had too much to think about to bother much with looking for magical creatures anymore. There were tests to make up and papers to grade, although admittedly few because he didn't like giving them, and other teacherly things. The predicament of the Order of the Phoenix also weighed heavily on his mind. They still didn't have any leads on what the Dark side was trying to accomplish. They were as much in the dark about how to finally defeat them as they had ever been. His relationship with Chloë, while amazingly uncomplicated, took up a lot of his time and, if he was brutally honest with himself, was unlikely to keep either of them satisfied for very long. The simple fact of the matter was that they were better off as friends than lovers.

There was a shout of laughter somewhere nearer the castle. Charlie looked up from where he was watching underneath an old tree by the lake and saw that it had come from his younger sister. She and a few of the other students in her year had chased a group of pixies up on the hill and were having a rather wild game of chasey with them. He wished he could be so lighthearted. Glo-Pixies were liable to make one happy, something in the pixy dust- Ginny was floating a few centimeters above the ground, giggling madly and shooting sparks at the cloud of playful creatures that tugged at her robes and hair. As he watched, she inhaled too much pixy dust and sneezed violently, doubling over with laughter afterwards. She flopped down on her back on the ground, apparently not caring that she was getting her robes absolutely filthy, and stared at the sky.

Charlie sighed. He didn't understand how she could be so calm. Obviously, she knew about the burdens that she carried- she spent way too much time with Potter, for one thing, and Dumbledore had already told her a bit about elementary Life Bonds. That, coupled with what he already knew about her nightmares, was a clear tip-off. Lately, Ginny had had dark circles under her eyes and there had been multiple reports of both her and Harry being inattentive in class, but he could hardly blame them. He was losing sleep, and he wasn't anywhere near as involved as they were.

This troubled him. His little sister had no business being anywhere near the sort of danger she was just from the fact that Harry Potter had saved her life. That she shared a deeper Life Bond with him was really just the icing on a cake that was all too sweet. It wasn't that Charlie wasn't grateful to Harry- quite the contrary; he had rid the world of the Dark Lord for ten years and rescued his sister on top of it- but was it too much to ask that their lives be a little less inextricable? He only had one little sister, and he couldn't help it if the overprotective big brother genes were strong in the Weasley family. 

The bell rang for the end of class and the students hurried off to lunch, but Charlie sat under the old aspen for another hour trying to figure out what he was going to do. 

*

"Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked nervously, resisting the urge to fiddle with the hem on his sleeve. He had just discovered a little hole and the desire to turn it into a great big hole was driving him crazy. 

The Headmaster looked up from his work with the customary twinkle in his eyes. "Yes, Harry? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Sir, I need you to call a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix." He squirmed under Dumbledore's serious gaze.

"I see," said the old wizard at length. "Perhaps it would be best if you sat down and explained why?"

Harry sat awkwardly on the edge of one of the chairs, still only barely able to meet the Headmaster's eyes. "I know what the Drifters are trying to do and I know when and where they're going to do it. And I know how to stop them."

If Harry had ever totally thrown Dumbledore a curve, it was now. He was almost afraid the old man would have a heart attack. Instead, the Headmaster merely blinked at him. "Would you care to elaborate?"

It was Harry's turn to be surprised. "You're not even going to ask me how I knew?" he said incredulously. He was, after all, the youngest if not the least experienced member of the Order.

"Why should I?" Dumbledore asked. "You were right last time, were you not?"

Well, Harry thought, he does have a point, after all. "I guess so. I suppose I'm just not used to people taking me seriously." He sighed. "In our minds, the last attack occurred on the thirty-first of October. But that's not quite correct- it was the early morning hours of the first of November. Yet I can't help but thinking that it would have been more effective to attack during the Halloween Ball. The only reason I can think of for not attacking sooner is that they couldn't." Harry stopped here, feeling ridiculous. Here he was, asking the Professor to send people off on pure speculation and gut instinct.

Sensing his discomfort, Dumbledore prodded, "Go on."

Harry took a deep breath and continued. "What I had trouble with was _why_ they couldn't attack earlier, so I looked up when the Drifter activity had started. Hermione has a scrapbook full of suspicious-sounding articles cut out of the _Daily Prophet_ and Drifter activity seems to have started sometime after the twenty-second of June." 

"The summer equinox?" Dumbledore hazarded.

"It looks like it," Harry confirmed. "Which left me with two dates- Samhain and June twenty-first. I remembered something from one of Professor Binns' classes and looked it up in my textbook. It turns out that there are a whole series of megaliths in the UK oriented towards events on certain dates. Stonehenge and Dowth Cairn correspond to those dates, which makes sense- the Dark Side was using Dowth as a base in October." He sighed and massaged his forehead. All of a sudden he had a splitting headache. "I don't know how, but they've been using the alignment of the sun with these megaliths as some sort of power source. The next significant date is the winter equinox, which means they'll be at Newgrange at sunrise."

To his credit, Dumbledore seemed to have absorbed everything with only minimal difficulty. In fact, he seemed rather entranced by the whole thing. "Well," he said, "I can see that Miss Granger has finally rubbed off on you. I must say, I'm surprised that someone has found a use for their History of Magic textbooks other than the impromptu pillow. But I'm afraid I can't call in the entire Order on this. It's too risky to have everyone know about it. Who do you suggest we send?"

Harry released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. This part he could handle. "Sirius, Anya, Remus, Charlie, and Professor Sanderson," he rattled off. He had already considered all of the Phoenix members he knew, and those were the five he considered qualified- he'd chosen Sirius for his Animagus form and knowledge of Muggle weaponry, Anya for her experience with the Drifters, among other things, Remus for his enhanced strength, Charlie and the professor for their expertise and coordination in the field. 

Dumbledore nodded. "I understand your logic, Harry. Thank you for coming to me with this information. I'm afraid I must ask you to remain silent about this again- absolute secrecy is required or the team could be in serious danger. I'm sure you understand."

Harry agreed readily and Dumbledore dismissed him. Walking out of the Headmaster's office, he let out a breath of relief. Dumbledore hadn't even hinted that he should stay out of the business himself. It was doubtful that he thought it was implied- Dumbledore never implied anything without making it very obvious- but Harry had to wonder whether the omission was purposeful. It didn't really matter. Harry knew, with a feeling of almost sickening certainty, that he had to go. 

*

Gryffindor's first Quidditch match of the season was a much-anticipated event, and one that had been well prepared for. Over the past few weeks, Ginny had spent more time on her broom than she had sleeping, and while she considered this unfortunate, at least part of the reason was not Quidditch practice but rather a nightmare evasion tactic. The dreams had weakened somewhat after Halloween, but had been growing steadily stronger since late November. Now, early December, they had reached such a frequent intensity that she could not doze off for a length of time longer than her History of Magic classes without experiencing some sort of bizarre link to either Voldemort, the Dark forces, or a particularly twisted Irish legend. This was part of the reason why Ginny had fallen asleep in her breakfast the morning before the game.

Fortunately for both her and Harry, who seemed to be experiencing much the same thing, the pure adrenaline rush that was competitive flying leant an amazing feeling of pseudo-awakeness, meaning that they weren't going to be completely helpless in their match against Slytherin. (Hufflepuff had dropped out of the Quidditch tournament this year in respect for Cedric Diggory, which Ginny found rather touching.) Ravenclaw had absolutely flattened them in their last match, led by an amazingly driven Cho Chang. Gryffindor was to play Slytherin later in the day, and a few weeks later the winner of that match would compete with Ravenclaw for the title. 

"Gin?" Harry inquired from behind a yawn. "Angelina says it's time to head out. I've got your broom."

Ginny nodded, the anxiety that had been fluttering around her stomach all day congealing into one horrible knot of nervousness, and together they left for the Quidditch pitch.

Through sheer luck, Ginny missed most of Angelina's pep talk. She was far too distracted to concentrate on anything at all except mentally reviewing ways to keep herself from falling off of her broomstick. First impressions were important- she needed to show the rest of Gryffindor that she belonged on the Quidditch team. She needed to prove that she hadn't been chosen because half of her family was on the team. But what Ginny needed most was to wipe the pitch with Draco Malfoy. His "Potter's whore" comments were starting to get extremely agitating. Ron had cursed him in the corridor the previous day and received three detentions from Snape. Revenge was going to be sweet.

The time came to meet the opposing team on the pitch, and so four Weasleys with flaming red hair, one famous bespectacled boy, a Quidditch Captain and her best friend left the change room and faced off with the Slytherins. As human beings, they were somewhat formidable- aside from Malfoy, they seemed chosen on size alone. Crabbe and Goyle, acting as beaters, looked more like trolls than wizards, and their bats just enhanced the image. The Chasers and the Keeper, male and female alike, were wearing identical looks of stony fury. To Ginny it seemed as if they would sooner bite Angie's head off than shake her hand. Still, the captains shook hands and Madam Hooch blew her whistle. Fourteen brooms rose into the air.

Ginny felt another level of awareness append itself to her consciousness the minute her feet left the ground. At the same time, a dimension was lost- her nightmares and their significance seemed completely insignificant. This was flying- so easy at first and so challenging when she wanted it to be. That was the beauty of broomsticks- they could be simple or complicated and there was no need to push oneself. 

Unless it was the middle of a Quidditch game. Getting a feel for the game after only a few seconds in the air, Ginny darted in and out of the other team's players, noting with satisfaction that while the Slytherins certainly had brute strength on their side, her own team was much more agile. She intercepted a Quaffle meant for John Marriot of Slytherin and passed it back to Katie Bell, who dodged two Bludgers in order to score the first goal of the game. Ginny bit back a yell of triumph, but reminded herself that the game was hardly over.

An hour later, there was still no sign of the Snitch, at least as far as Ginny could tell. Malfoy was trailing Harry at a safe distance somewhere above her. There hadn't been so much as a single feint on either part. The current score was 60-10 for Gryffindor- Ron had let in only one goal, and even then only when faced with all three Chasers when Fred and George were occupied with aiming the Bludgers at Malfoy. Ginny herself hadn't scored yet- she had only been in a decent position once, and had missed by unfortunate combination of Bludger and Keeper.

Over by the Gryffindor hoops, the center Slytherin Chaser had the Quaffle, and was about to take aim. Angelina swooped in from above and snatched it away, passing to Katie-

Ginny caught Katie's pass and started weaving through the Slytherin team. Vincent Crabbe thwacked a Bludger at her and she jerked her broom handle up, almost running into the other Bludger which was a convenient three centimeters above her head. Suddenly, only the Keeper was left before her…

With no time to aim due to the increasing proximity of the Slytherin Chasers and unable to pass because Katie and Angelina were both dodging the Bludgers that had nearly decapitated her a moment before, Ginny arrested the forward motion of her broom and let the Chasers overshoot her. Flying under them when they turned back to see where she'd gone, Ginny cocked her arm back and let the Quaffle fly.

The Slytherin Keeper never knew what had hit him- his own Chasers were blocking his vision and he couldn't see where the shot was coming from. As a result, it sailed through a hoop a meter and a half to his left.

Someone whooped- _Definitely one of my brothers_, Ginny thought. She looked up habitually, searching for Harry-

And suddenly the whooping was not just from the team. Harry had gone into a steep dive, Draco Malfoy hot on his trail. The players, inexperienced, stopped what they were doing and watched with bated breath as the two Seekers jostled for the better position. Ginny had a bad moment when Malfoy pulled ahead- Harry leaned forward too far and reached- hehadtheSnitchhehadtheSnitch and oh Merlin he had leaned forward so far that he'd fallen off of his broom, hewasfallinghewasfallinghewasfalling and she'd forgotten her wand, oh Merlin there was nothing she could do…

But Harry had been in a steep dive that had only turned into a fall a few feet off of the ground. He hit the pitch rolling and came up on his feet, the winged golden Snitch clasped in his right hand and his left arm hanging at a somewhat painful-looking angle at his side. As the rest of the team- most of the school- cheered, Ginny let out a breath of relief. As always, Harry would be okay.

*

He didn't know exactly what he'd done, really. He was beginning to see the edge of something deep and dark and long-buried and he knew that it needed to be uncovered, but that was all that he knew. Excepting, of course, the fact that Anya really, really wanted to keep it hidden. For this reason, and others that were slowly starting to drive him mad, Sirius was sitting on his piano bench, running his fingers over the letters carved into the pull-down cover. _Brighid_, it read in fancy curly-cued letters. He pushed the cover back and let his hands fall on the keys. Women, he reflected with a sigh, were very, very difficult.

They hadn't spoken of… that night since everything had almost happened. There was a forced sort of formality between them, and the deeper bond they had once had was nowhere to be seen. Anya would say no more about her fear of commitment, the fact that she thought she was going to die, or relationships in general. Where Sirius had once been able to pick her brain with relative ease, she was now closed to him, keeping to herself as much as she could and avoiding being alone with him at all costs. He wondered if giving her the space she seemed to want was really the best thing for the situation, but he couldn't think of a better idea, and his frustration with the both of them was growing.

Without thinking, his fingers began to move over the keys, looking for a melody. He tried to ignore the burning sensation in his chest, the stinging barbs his conscience was giving him for causing her so much pain, but found himself quite unable. Sirius was very close to owling Charlie and asking him what the hell had happened, but he had the stinking Slytherin suspicion that Charlie was as clueless as he was. _Damn it._

With an ironic upward quirk of his mouth, Sirius played a few slow, introductory bars, then picked up the pace to how it was supposed to be played and added in the melody.

"I bet you think that's really clever," Anya said from behind him, looking like she was trying not to give in and tell him that, in fact, it was.

"Aww," Sirius said, putting on a wounded expression. "You don't think it's appropriate? 'I know you're only protecting yourself; I know you're thinking of somebody else-'" Anya had cracked a reluctant smile, showing that she knew how the song continued, so he stopped singing. "See? I told you it was fitting." He slid over on the bench and motioned for her to sit down beside him, quickly returning his hands to the keys to keep the melody going. "Tell me about this someone who hurt you," he demanded quietly, not moving his eyes from the word scrawled across the piano. 

"I don't know if that's such a good idea," she began, shifting uncomfortably. "I-" She stopped, let out all of her breath at once, and massaged her temples with one hand. "I don't know if I can," she whispered. "I- you- ooh, damn."

"Hey, don't take it out on me," Sirius said defensively, not skipping a beat. "I am an innocent man." 

Anya positively glared at him. "That's not funny."

"I'm not laughing," he answered seriously, dropping all pretense of being cheerful and pulling the cover down overtop of the white ivory keys. "Tell me what happened."

She turned her head down and examined the fine wood grain of the piano top. "I want to," Anya confessed, "but it's not that easy. It's something I've been trying to forget for thirteen years and never quite managed." She swallowed hard, then closed her eyes. When she spoke again, her words were quiet and almost hoarse. "Charlie doesn't even know."

It was almost bizarre to have his suspicions confirmed like that. Although the fact in itself was not surprising, Sirius had no idea how to continue the conversation- he had never imagined getting this far, let alone progressing. Instead of pushing further, he said, "There are some things you can't talk to your best friend about."

A weak smile appeared on her face. "You're not kidding." She sniffed and wiped the back of her hand over her eyes. 

Sirius realized with a start that she was fighting off tears and felt immediately guilty. _Damn it. Something about this just makes my wand-hand itch._ Part of that same something was twisting a red-hot poker inside of him. He drew Anya close, possessed with the sudden urge to squeeze the demons out of her, but restrained himself. "Tell me about it," he commanded softly, leaning his head on hers.

After waiting for so long, the answer finally came. "Alright," she said, and he felt her muscles tense. "But not here."

He led her to his room and shut the door as quietly as possible before sitting down across from her on the bed. "_Obsidio_," he locked the door and set his wand on the dresser. His eyes searched her for answers that he wasn't sure she could give him, even if she wanted to. 

Anya plucked at the fabric of his coverlet and bit her lip before starting. "I was nineteen," she began at last, not looking at him. "I didn't know anything but my job and what I'd learned at school. I was young, naïve, and stupid, and I was sure that I was in love." Sirius nodded. He was sure there were a lot of stories that started out like this. "I was the acting Head of the DMLE at the time- there were still a lot of arrests for crimes committed in Voldemort's time and a surprising number of Ministry employees ended up being persecuted for their part in the war, so a lot of people who were too young to have played much part ended up in senior positions temporarily. I actually enjoyed my job, something I have trouble remembering when I think back…" She shifted restlessly, still not meeting his gaze, then stood up and exhaled loudly before continuing to talk to the wall. "We had been seeing each other for a little over six months when it… when he…" Anya looked at him helplessly, her eyes begging him to just _understand_- to understand that she couldn't tell him. He knew what she needed him to do.

"Left?" Sirius guessed, catching her wrist as she turned around again. He could feel her heartbeat, steady against his fingers. Not that, then. "You found out he played for the other team?" He pressed his lips to her wrist, and her pulse quickened ever so slightly, but not enough. "Okay. He cheated on you?" he asked, moving up to the inside of her elbow. The very thought of it was enough that he had to fight to keep the black haze of fury from taking over his mind. Anya was pressed up against the wall now, and Sirius could hear both her shallow breathing and her heartbeat. "No, that's not it." His thoughts grew steadily darker. "He used you?" Her pulse fluttered slightly and he raised her palm to his lips, almost losing control completely. If he ever met this man, if he found out who had done this to her… His throat closed ominously. "Hit you?" It jumped dangerously again, and he knew that even he couldn't ask the last question. He pulled her arms up above her head and pressed them against the wall behind her.

The expression on Anya's face was all he needed, this time, but there was also the tensing of her body and the erratic breathing to tip him off. Sirius was tempted to step away entirely and leave her in her misery, ashamed at himself for forcing the truth out of her, but knowing that it had had to come out, sometime. Instead, he pulled her roughly against him and tried to swallow the bile that rose in his throat. "God… I'm so sorry." He couldn't think of anything else to say. Rage threatened to consume him and he wanted to demand who had done this, who dared to hurt the woman he loved in such a way, but couldn't bring himself to force her to remember more than she already had. "I shouldn't have-"

But he could say no more. Anya's uncontrollable shaking against him was his first priority, and he knew no words could ever be enough. 

*

She woke up feeling safe and warm, something that hadn't happened in a very long time. However, she doubted you could call the state she was in 'awake.' She was merely aware. She knew, for example, that she was being watched, and closely at that. She knew that she wasn't in her own bed, and noted with a cozy feeling and a sleepy smile that her pillow smelled rather like Sirius. At that point, Anya probably wouldn't have been terribly surprised if her pillow turned out to _be_ Sirius, but fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how she looked at it) this was not the case.

"Your bed is so much more comfortable than mine," she mumbled, burying herself as deep as she could in the bedclothes. 

"Does that mean you'll be spending more time in it?" Sirius' voice answered teasingly.

Anya rolled onto her back and lifted her head a bit, blinking in an attempt to make her vision return to normal. To her surprise, Sirius was sitting in a chair by the window. Apparently he had been watching her sleep. The only light came from a half-moon and a thousand twinkling stars just beyond the glass. "A definite possibility," she managed to say, smiling a bit in an effort to cover up how touching she truly found this. She wasn't about to let him think she'd suddenly gone soft. "I might have to kick you out first, though." 

Sirius pouted and stood up, making his way over to the bedside. Her eyes were still laughing when they met his, a laughter that died out very quickly as his mouth descended upon hers. "Can't we share?"

"Tempting," Anya admitted with a sigh, flopping back down on the bed. "Very tempting." How very strange that everything that should have changed was exactly the same as before. She wondered idly what this meant and decided that it could only be a good thing. It was good enough that she all but forgot the grim specter hanging over her head, just waiting. She could resist the urge to curl up into a ball and shut out the world, but only barely.

"Isn't it, though," he said gently, lying down next to her. He brushed a few strands of long, dark hair away from her face before giving in to a short laugh.

"What?"

Sirius shook his head. "Nothing," he answered, still smiling ruefully. "Just that for all his inexperience, Remus knows what he's talking about, after all."

"Remus," Anya said dryly, "is often far too intelligent for his own good." _Let alone that of others._ She punctuated this statement with a yawn and gave in to gravity, allowing her eyelids to fall closed again. "How long was I asleep?"

"I don't know," came the response. "Lost track of time." 

Anya could feel him watching her, almost as if he were trying to memorize something, the way he got sometimes after (and during) very awkward moments. Yet the sensation that nothing had really changed between them was contradicted by the fact that this didn't feel awkward at all. Different, yes; new, certainly; but more than anything it just felt right. She glanced out the window at the velvet night. It was at least three o'clock in the morning. A teasing smile danced across her face. "Why weren't you in bed?" 

Sirius chuckled in the darkness; she felt his arm slip around her waist and pull her closer. "I deserved that."

"You deserve so much more," Anya corrected. A vague thought floating around in her mind took shape. She bit back her pride and instead let herself be properly grateful. "Thank you, Sirius."

His first response was to kiss her. "You're welcome." No other words were spoken until morning.

*

"Morning, Sirius," Remus said, not looking up from his paper. He purposefully refrained from making a comment about the hour. If Sirius wanted to sleep in past all reasonable hours then that was his prerogative. He would be sorry for that later, when all of his proper wizarding credentials came back from the Ministry's legal department and he could finally apply for a job- sleeping in would become a luxury that he would have little time for.

"Morning," Sirius replied, sounding exhausted and content at the same time. Remus looked up from the _Daily Prophet_ to find his longtime friend standing by the refrigerator retrieving the orange juice and staring out the window, a bizarre expression on his face. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"

Remus almost choked on his coffee as his eyes followed Sirius' to the dreary mid-December morning. The sky was overcast and it was drizzling slightly, having stormed earlier; the ground was a murky green-brown color and covered in puddles. The incessant drip-drip of the raindrops off of the eaves was driving him to complete distraction. Sirius had obviously been influenced by something. Remus, not being especially dense but rather only a little naïve, had just realized which other person he hadn't seen that morning. "It's raining," he commented dryly, taking in Sirius' mussed hair. Were those marks on his neck what Remus thought they were?

"Beauty is only skin-deep," Sirius quipped good-naturedly. 

Remus wondered if he'd been enthralled. Sirius hadn't acted like this since he'd had the opportunity to razz James about Lily's pregnancy. He hoped this wouldn't last quite so long; it really was kind of obnoxious. Of course, other people would probably find it sweet and endearing, especially considering the amount of times some of these other people had told Sirius to lighten up. "Speaking of beauty… have you seen Anya this morning? She never sleeps this late."

Sirius didn't reply. In point of fact, all that he seemed to be doing was pouring the orange juice into a non-existent glass beside his own. "Hmm?"

"You're making a mess," Remus pointed out with a tolerant smile.

"Too late for that," his friend answered, borrowing Remus' wand to clear away the sodden muddle that was the tablecloth without disturbing anything else that was on it. He pulled out a chair and sat, finally succeeding in pouring his drink without incident. 

"Just as long as you know it. Hadn't you better be getting back to bed?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Are you wearing lipstick?"

"Am I?" Sirius asked, swiping a hand across mouth distractedly. "So I am. Well, suffice it to say I didn't see that coming."

Remus snorted. "That would make you the only one. You do realize that every human being with half an IQ-point has seen this coming for months?"

"Seen what coming? Oh." Sirius managed a rueful grin. "Well, love is blind, you know."

__

Apparently. He resisted the temptation to think of Hallie and praised the powers be that Sirius didn't talk much about the events of over a month ago. "Yes, I can see that." He sighed and confiscated Sirius' orange juice before he could do something regrettable with it. "Get out of here, you senseless man, and find somewhere where you will be better appreciated." With a slight flush and a grin, Sirius bounded off again. Remus could do naught but hope that whatever bug had bitten his friend stayed far away from him.

*

Dromore House was quiet in the predawn darkness of the early morning of December 21st. Harry forced his breathing to remain steady and deep, not moving. He felt the shadow creeping closer to his trunk, reaching for the latch with slender fingers and finding it locked. The mind-shape cursed and whispered, "_Alohomora_."

Harry sat bolt upright and caught Ginny's arm before she could extract the cloak. She jumped back, surprised, but didn't make a sound. There was either shame or guilt written on her face; it was hard to tell in the darkness, even if he was already wearing his glasses. After all, he, too, had been about to don the Invisibility Cloak and join the party assembling downstairs. "I guess you had the same idea that I did," he said quietly, releasing her. She shouldn't have been at Dromore House at all- she had gone back to the Burrow for Christmas- but apparently the calling of the task at hand was too great. He knew he shouldn't have told her what was going on. Then again, she probably would have figured it out for herself, anyway.

Ginny dropped her gaze. "How did you know?"

He shrugged helplessly. What could he say? He just _knew_, and that was all. Harry sighed. "I don't suppose I can convince you not to go?"

The corners of her mouth turned up, but it wasn't a genuine smile and didn't reach her eyes. "All or nothing, remember?"

He nodded. "Okay. We'd better get going, then." They crowded under the Invisibility Cloak and tiptoed down the stairs to the sitting room. The rest of the team was already assembled, wide awake and ready to go as soon as they had finished their Pepper-Up Potions. It didn't escape Harry's attention that certain people seemed to be avoiding each other- strangely, they were neither Sirius nor Anya- it was Chloë and Charlie who seemed to be giving each other the widest berths. He hoped they would still be able to cooperate with a minimum of difficulty.

Harry and Ginny moved close to the edges of the circle, careful not to get close enough for anyone to sense their presence. This meant keeping as far away as possible from Remus, whose nose was already twitching.

"All right, you two. Take off the cloak and step out where we can see you." Remus did not look at all amused. 

Harry let out a deep breath he didn't know he'd been holding, about to do as his onetime Professor had asked. Ginny, however, had other ideas. He felt her reach for her wand and heard her mutter a few words. 

"Harry? Ginny? I know you were there a minute ago." The rest of the team was exchanging glances. Almost as one they began to feel around blindly for the party-crashers. 

Sirius was the notable exception. He crossed his arms over his chest. "This isn't funny, Harry. It's too dangerous for you to come along-" 

Harry had probably never been more grateful for Anya's calming influence on his godfather. She laid a hand on his arm. "We have to go now," she said quietly. "The sun is almost up." 

He chanced a glance out the window. It was true- the sky was already lightening. Under the cover of the cloak, he and Ginny moved closer to the Portkey they would be taking. The adults moved around them, temporarily oblivious, and all at once, they reached for it... 

Harry felt a tug behind his navel and jerked forward into space. The sensation was so strong that it felt as if he were being pulled through a sieve at incredible speed. It stopped suddenly and he stumbled over Ginny's feet, landing roughly on the ground and pulling her down with him. They both had the sense not to cry out- if they were caught, Sirius would never trust him again. Not only that, but they would be forced to return to Dromore House post-haste, and subsequently lectured. Sirius' lectures were always uncomfortable to sit through, but Remus' were a thousand times worse. The combination of both of them would probably drive Harry to madness and/or promises he didn't intend to keep. 

The cloak stayed in place after they fell, which was a lucky thing. Silently, the two of them helped each other up (which was awkward as they couldn't see where exactly they were putting their hands) and surveyed their surroundings. They were standing on an obviously man-made hill which was surrounded by about sixty large standing stones. The grass was completely covered with snow several inches thick, which was already posing a problem. Harry had just realized that he was soaked through from falling onto it and that they had left a rather large print in the snow. Luckily, the adults were too busy taking in their own surroundings to notice. 

Harry desperately needed some way to communicate with Ginny, but knew they couldn't risk being discovered. Handsignals would admittedly be useless, and they couldn't read each other's minds- Harry paused. But they could read each other's minds, with the aid of a little magic, couldn't they? He took out his wand and pressed it to something that felt like Ginny's hair. "Maglius," he whispered. 

__

It's a Link Charm, Harry thought at her, hoping she had the sense not to cry out at the sudden intrusion into her mind. _Communication by thought._

__

Great. How do we get in? 

Harry looked around. Sirius, Remus, and the rest of them were already descending to what was presumably the entrance to the passage cairn. _Follow them._

Careful to keep to the team's footprints, they trudged as quietly as possible along behind. Harry kept glancing at the horizon, waiting for the sun to rise. They had to take considerable care coming down from the top of the mound, as it was surrounded by a tall, thick, icy stone wall. Luckily, none of the adults had bothered to take down the rope they had used on the way down, and although it was tricky getting down together under the cloak, the two of them managed. Then, feeling as if they were in some kind of bizarre dream, they started to move around to the passage's entrance. 

__

This doesn't feel right. 

Although the comment surprised him initially, Harry had to admit that Ginny had a point: while something about the setting, what they were doing, clicked, other things were screaming at him to be reversed. 

Ginny's thought continued, oblivious to him. _I thought we were going to-_

Both of their trains of thought stopped when they saw the entrance to the cairn. **_This_** feels right, Harry thought, taking everything in. 

The whole of the faery mound sparkled red and orange in the predawn light. A facade of glittering white quartz and granite stones bordered it. A platform at the front had two separate stairways leading around the obvious centerpiece, what looked like, and most likely was, a large stone with swirls carved into it. Behind and above it was the roof box through which the rising sun would shine in just a few minutes.

__

Oh, Ginny exclaimed mentally, and they both snapped out of their trances. _I guess I was wrong_. Together, they started towards it. _This is bizarre,_ she finally said, and Harry could feel her glancing about. _There should be people here. The waiting list to see the sunlight through the passageway reportedly got to ten years!_

Maybe they got lost in the fog, Harry thought darkly. He couldn't remember a foggier day, which he thought was very suspicious. Fog didn't usually go this well with snow. And sun didn't usually pass this easily through the it. The three together were definitely fishy. _Come on, let's go_. _The faster we get this over with, the better_.

__

You know, I can't help but agree with you. Grasping his hand tightly, Ginny led the way into the passage.

*

The rising sun had almost cleared the horizon when Harry and Ginny caught up with the adults at the end of the stone corridor. It was still fairly dark inside, because the sun's angle wasn't allowing any natural light to get through the roof box, but Harry could make out the outline of the main antechamber in the darkness. 

__

Oh, Ginny said within his mind. Harry could feel her amazement. _We have to go… this way…_

Harry wanted to point out that they were headed towards a plain stone wall, but she seemed very sure of herself and the others were headed that way anyway, lead by Anya. They stopped a few meters behind their elders.

Anya knelt on the floor and took out her wand, poking it at what looked to Harry to be a small, broken vial. It was lying in a half-dried, sticky puddle of some dark brown substance, through which there were tiny footprints. Remus wrinkled his nose. "Blood," he said succinctly as Sirius pulled her upright again. His face was pale, carefully devoid of any emotion. "Leon's blood," Remus continued, nudging the tube with the toe of his boot before stomping on it. "I smell a rat. We're close."

And then the sun rose. Harry watched with wide eyes as the brilliant rays shot through the corridor and directly across the room, bathing the room in light as it bounced off of the other stones. At last the light hit the wall where they were standing, and everything changed. 

The stones that had been solidly anchored there moments earlier retreated somewhere, and a somewhat rusty old mirror that still, apparently, served its function reflected the sunbeams down onto where they had been. Harry blanched. Where there had been solid rock moments before, there was now an intricate granite statue carved in the shape of a tall, thin woman with her head thrown back and her eyes open wide. Stone arms held a granite bowl above her head. Harry didn't need to ask who it was.

__

Aine.

No reply was necessary. Everyone was staring at the statue with startling intensity. Finally, Anya spoke. "Peter was here," she said quietly, looking down at the glass shards. "And he was using Leon's blood, the reason for which I bet I can guess." She turned to Sirius. "Give me your pocket knife."

"Anya, I really don't think-" Sirius protested.

"Thank you," Anya said shortly, already flicking it open. "_Tergo_." Harry winced as she slashed the blade viciously across her own palm, but her expression did not change. She held her hand over the bowl and squeezed, this time cringing slightly, then brought it back down again. "Cén dom mullach faraman Ard Aon."

__

She seeks an audience with **who**? Harry asked, alarmed. 

__

I should think that much is obvious, Ginny replied. She seemed as stunned as he was, but (luckily, Harry thought) nothing out of the ordinary was happening. He wondered if Anya's makeshift Gaelic spell had failed.

Until she continued her command. "Snigh fuil, súigh fuil, dúis Tuatha de Dannan."

__

Uh oh.

A tremor shook the passageway and the bowl disintegrated. Anya's blood dripped slowly down the statue's fingers, thickened with the fine dust of the granite. The hands clenched, the eyes blinked, and the statue came to life, turning on them a gaze without focus. "Cén fáth tá sibh anseo?" it rumbled, looking directly past Anya. Harry shivered. It seemed to be staring right at him, which was ridiculous, of course. It had no pupils. 

__

We don't want anything, he answered it. _Just show me how I can help and I'll leave you alone._

" Cén dom mullach faraman Ard Aon," Anya repeated, and Harry's heart sank. He wanted to get on with their task as quickly as possible, but something told him he had to stay. 

The statue actually appeared to be surprised, and shifted its attention to those beings that stood closer to it. Harry tried not to sag in relief. "Tá mé sí. Cad déan tú smaoineamh tá tú fiúntach?"

__

Feel free to jump in any time, Gin, Harry thought frantically. _Aine looks about ready to eat Anya alive. I don't even know if she _is_ worthy. What are the qualifications?_

I don't know, but you can be sure that Anya doesn't qualify, Ginny said back. _I'm going to…_ "Labhair mé do a." _Speak for her_, Ginny finished. Before Harry could stop her, she slipped out from under the cloak. 

There was a collective expression of disbelief, but nothing hurt Harry as much as the furious look on Sirius' face. He had only seen his godfather that angry once before. "What do you think you're-"

The statue rumbled again. "_You are chosen_," it said, turning its stony gaze upon her. 

"_What_!?" Charlie exploded. "Wait a minute- Ginny, you're a _child-_ you can't _possibly_- you just spoke Gaelic, didn't you?" Ginny nodded. Charlie said something that would have made Ron blush.

Sirius spoke in a deadly calm voice. "You can come out now, Harry. We know you're there." 

Harry didn't know if he was deliberately ignoring the fact that Ginny had just spoken Gaelic or decided that it wasn't important, and he wasn't sure he cared to find out. In point of fact he was not in the slight bit curious about what would happen if he stayed right where he was, either. It was simply not an option. He unclasped the Invisibility Cloak and stuffed it into one of his robe pockets.

"_Just what do you think you are doing?_" he hissed at Ginny, ignoring his godfather for the moment. Their mental link seemed to have broken, and it was no wonder. Everything resembling concentration in his brain had just leaked out his ears. "_How could you just-_" He realized that most of the room's occupants were staring at him.

"Harry?" Sirius said, sounding a little incredulous. 

Harry felt his cheeks go warm. He already felt horrible for having spoken to Ginny that way and was about to apologize when his godfather continued. "I think you have some explaining to do."

Abashed, Harry opened his mouth to protest that there was too little time when the statue turned its flash-frozen gaze on him. All sound and motion stopped. When it finally spoke, its words were not comforting in the slightest. "I have been expecting you," it pronounced finally in Gaelic, "for a very long time. Take the blade," it told Ginny, somehow producing a wicked-looking dagger from thin air. "And take the courage to wield it well." Tentatively, Ginny reached out and took the knife and sheath from the oracle. "You, too, require your weapon," it said, once again addressing Harry. "This I cannot give you, for its touch is forbidden to me, but I can help you find it. I hope you know what you are looking for." And everything faded into gray. 

*

After the abrupt change of scenery, Charlie was the first to speak. " Where are we?" 

"An island, somewhere," Remus stated, looking for all the world like a hunting dog searching for the scent. "The nearest coast is that way," he pointed off through the fog to their left. "We could split up to cover more ground-"

Harry could have sworn he felt something slither over his foot, but couldn't see it through the mist. "I think I speak for everyone when I say that splitting up is not something I want to do. If we get separated in this fog, we'll never find each other again."

"On the other hand," Sirius pointed out, "staying put is pretty pointless. What did she say before she sent us here, Harry?"

He frowned slightly, feeling the residual chill of the oracle's words. "That I needed my weapon and she would help me find it." He turned to look at Ginny, who had just finished securing the strange dagger's sheath around her waist. "Any idea what she meant?"

She glanced up at him and he froze. "She meant that _I_'m going to help you," Ginny declared. Except that it wasn't really Ginny at all. She stood with a regal sort of fierce dignity that Harry had only glimpsed in her before. Her stance suggested training a lot more intensive and combat-oriented than a few months Quidditch practice. And her eyes had turned from a familiar deep, warm, chocolate brown to a half-crazed gray the exact shade of the fog.

No one else said a word. Harry had the feeling that they were even more shocked than he was. Finally, he managed to get a grip on his mutinous brain. As far as he could tell, Ginny was fine. So she needed an exorcist- big deal! That had happened before, right? He tried to convince himself. A worrying voice insisted, _Yeah, but she almost died that time, didn't she?_ Harry wished fervently that it would just shut up. "Right. Lead the way." He was rather amazed at how calm his voice sounded. He could see it now. _Famous Harry Potter, boy wonder and four-time survivor of the Dark Lord, paranoid that his girlfriend may be developing a case of schizophrenia_. Eat your heart out, Rita Skeeter. But the six of them followed Ginny into the mist.

Harry wasn't sure how long they had been walking when he noticed the castle looming out of the fog ahead of them. Of indeterminable style, the buildings themselves seemed unstable, and would change shape if scrutinized too closely. "Ginny? Where are we going?"

In response, she turned towards the rest of the group and waved her hand in the general direction of the gate behind her. "If we are lucky, to meet with the Seven."

__

The Seven? Harry wondered. _The Seven what?_ "Oh," he said, feeling he ought to say something. "Are they expecting us?" _Are we late? Why only if we're lucky? _A sudden wind chilled him to the bone, but the fog didn't stir. _Something rotten in Denmark_.

"They know we are here," she answered vaguely. "But time here isn't relative- doesn't correspond to the outside world or even anything on the island itself. It can't, or the Seven would be long dead. They're not immortal, you know. In other words, for them, we've only just arrived." Harry wondered if she was reading his mind. "Before we meet them, we have to go through the seven trials, that is, one for each of our weaknesses, our fears, our inner demons." Remus and Chloë winced perceptibly. "If one of us fails, we will be sent back. _We must not fail_." Allowing herself a half-smile, she turned semi-apologetically to Harry. "And I'm not reading your mind. I just know what you're thinking."

Harry's brain tried to fit itself around this and failed, so he moved on to more relevant thinking. Would he have to face a Dementor? he wondered. Was this even his greatest fear anymore? Or would he have to face his greatest weakness? What _were_ his inner demons like, anyway? He had a mental image of miniature Draco Malfoys in red devil costumes with pointy little tridents dancing inside of him and shuddered. _Anything but that._

"Well," Sirius said into the silence, "onwards, I suppose." The seven of them approached the gate.

*

Ginny turned towards the heavy wrought iron doors and raised her arms. She didn't know how exactly she was doing what she was doing, just what had to be done, but it seemed to be doing itself, really. The gates opened without a sound and a flash of light escaped from within. She found herself being drawn inside and without further ceremony, the trials began.

As the first one through the gate, she knew that she herself would be the first to be tested. Invisible, ice-cold hands pulled her forward in an unbreakable grip. Before them was a corridor of mirrors, reflections of truth and a past she would have rather forgotten. But she couldn't escape…

She stumbled over a tree root and fell to her knees on the cold, hard ground. The mist in front of her thinned, and she peered downwards. She could see herself reflected in a small lake just in front of her- she had narrowly missed tumbling right into the freezing water. 

A sudden shove from behind pitched her into the frigid depths. She struggled to keep her head above the water, but it was no use, the current was pulling her down, down, _down_, she couldn't breathe- 

There was blackness.

She was in a dark, familiar place, one she had no great love of, an observer in a time never forgotten. The Chamber of Secrets looked just as she'd remembered it, just as it had appeared years afterwards in her dreams; the statue of the basilisk leered hungrily at her and the diary just laughed. The memory of Tom Riddle was there; he had created this nightmare- all of her Voldemort-related nightmares, really, for he had given her the scar that connected her to him. The scar that connected her to Harry.

__

I am awake, she told herself firmly. _I am awake, and I will not dream this. I am awake, I'm safe with Charlie and Harry-_

But Harry was never terribly active in this particular nightmare. Sure, he played a huge part where fear factor was concerned, but he didn't actually do much- Harry spent the entire dreamspan against the wall where she had been, pale-faced and stiff-bodied. As if in death. Ginny was made to face Riddle alone, unarmed and afraid, but he was never content to just kill her and let her awake screaming. No, Riddle was a human Dementor; Riddle made her relive horrible things that she had done, things that she had never done and things he had tried to make her do; torturous episodes in which she was made to betray her family, betray her friends, betray Harry. In the end, she was always the only one left, and then Tom didn't need to kill her. Tom had, by this point, broken her.

Something made this reflection worse than all the others. The boy who would become Voldemort turned on her, red-on-green eyes blazing madly, wand drawn. But this time, she had her own wand. In fact no one was without a wand; no one has been disarmed- not even Harry, who stood between them, turned towards her so that she could see his face. It was completely devoid of emotion and looked almost exactly like she felt. 

Voldemort raised his wand. The disorientation vanished, but not soon enough. "_Imperio_."

__

Oh, no. Ginny knew this curse. It was a horrible thing to do to anyone, an unforgivable thing, but she couldn't think about it further because the Dark Lord's commands were taking over her mind. Of its own accord, her wand struck Harry in the chest. Detachedly, she felt a slight pressure over her heart and knew that Harry's own wand was aimed at her. _Finish it_, said the voice.

__

NO! All of Ginny's instincts screamed against it. She could feel the words being put into her mind, polluting it, felt them building behind her tongue and vowed never to say them. _I won't. I won't do it and you can't make me do it because this is _my_ dream, buddy, my dream my dream my dream it's only a hallucination and I'm not going to do it this isn't real it's not real it's not real it's not-_

"_Avada Kedavra._" 

The rest was silence.

*

With a horrible sucking, spiraling effect that made Harry very dizzy, the first test ended. He watched anxiously as Ginny reappeared, lying facedown on a bridge that had not been there moments before, her dagger pressed to her own chest. What on earth- or elsewhere- had gone on?

He was kneeling beside her on the bridge in seconds, but by the time he got there, she was already sitting up, rubbing a hand over her eyes. He watched as chocolate brown swirled again into gray. Before he could ask if she was alright, Ginny said, "I'm fine. What we need to do right now is keep going." She stood up and they followed her to the end of the narrow bridge. The path on the moorland below was bordered on both sides by a thick hedge, and directly in the center grew a large, gnarled apple tree bearing a single fruit on its very top branch. Chloë stepped ahead of them…

*

She stopped in front of it, taking in its weathered but sturdy appearance. She was almost ready to prepare a spell to move it out of the way when it moved on its own.

For the first time, Chloë noticed how the knots and cracks in the trunk made the tree appear almost human. She realized with a start that it was in fact not a normal tree at all, but a nymph, which were nearly extinct in the United Kingdom. Of course, there was no evidence that they were even in the same _dimension_ as the United Kingdom, let alone within it. Through the leaves, the nymph spoke to her softly. _Pick the fruit and you may pass_.

__

Oh, now that's ironic, Chloë thought to herself, looking for a good place to start climbing without offending the nymph. It wasn't that she was afraid of heights- it was the ground that scared her. She finally found a suitable branch and pulled herself up.

This proved to be a mistake. The tree itself was innocent enough to look at, but touching it had the effect of a Dementor. Chloë felt the cool bark slip under her fingers and grabbed the bough above her. The cold that had settled into her soul deepened, but she knew she had to continue. _Get the apple. Worry about everything else afterwards_.

It was going to be impossible. In her mind, Chloë heard the screaming of a young child. She could see her tear-stained face as her parents were killed, and Chloë couldn't move, she was stuck under the Imperius and couldn't fight back, which was ridiculous. Of course she could fight back- she always had before- but no, she couldn't move, and so was forced to look on as the carnage continued-

__

Continue. _Just keep going, and this can all stop_. She reached for another grip, feeling her arms shake with her weight. The apple shone innocently up ahead of her. _A little farther. You can't let them down_.

Down. She risked a glance downward and swallowed hard. On a broomstick, it didn't bother her. On the eighteenth floor of a building, it didn't bother her. But here, now, between her and the ground, were several painfully thick tree branches and only her own muscles to keep her from hitting them. 

The hooded figures in her mind started shooting curses towards the little girl. Chloë was still paralyzed, still imprisoned by the Unforgivable Curse and her fear- what would they do to her if she moved?- was still praying for someone else to get her out of this predicament. 

Knowing that no one could help her gave her strength. She pulled herself up onto a branch from which she could reach the fruit and stretched out her arm-

As she picked it off of the silvery nymph, the tree seemed to shrink beneath her, until she was sitting cross-legged on the ground with the apple in her lap. She brushed herself off as she stood, and no further words were exchanged. They rounded a turn in the hedge and Anya was called to take up the next challenge.

*

__

Sphinx. The word floated through her mind unbidden. She wasn't exactly sure that that was what she was, but she seemed to be something of the same sort. She wasn't the kind of sphinx you got in Egypt, exactly- those were sand-colored and huge and had regal airs. This one was the same sort of gray stone that the statue of Aine had been and although she had a decidedly royal feel to her, Anya got the feeling that it was more because she _was_ important than because she had deluded itself that she was.

Yet she couldn't be a proper sphinx. Here she stood before her, clearly a challenger, and the sphinx had presented her with no riddle. What was she meant to do? Would there be no clues?

She was not permitted to continue in that train of thought. The sphinx looked up at her very slowly and opened her mouth, and she was swallowed whole.

Inside, the darkness was almost complete. All that Anya could see was due to the fact that intensely magical creatures had a habit of glowing in the dark. The sphinx- the sphinx's consciousness? Spirit?- lazed idly in front of her, paws crossed, regarding her coolly. _You know why you are here_.

Anya snorted. "Don't tell me you're my inner demon. Not exactly my greatest fear, either." She bit her lip. What was this? She needed to get on with the trial. Although she realized that time was not especially important here- wherever here was- she still felt that something was pushing her forwards.

__

No, the sphinx answered mildly. _But I can show you_. The glow around her faded. 

Behind Anya's eyes, the world exploded. Images, smells, sounds, emotions- all abstract and chaotic, floating all around her. There was the absurd yet satisfying impression of someone loving her. Then everything resolved itself into one coherent might-have-been and Anya found herself even more confused.

She was getting married. Good gods, what was she thinking? The very notion was absurd. Commitment. She scoffed. It was meaningless; pointless. The minute you gave yourself away, you were taken advantage of. She had no intention of ever trusting anyone that much.

__

You are afraid of living, the sphinx insisted. Anya could just see her infuriating Cheshire-cat grin.

"I am not," she said crossly. "That's ridiculous. I'm here, aren't I? I've got a challenging job and a kid to take care of- if I were afraid of living I should think I'd be insane by now."

__

You are afraid, the sphinx repeated, her expression not changing. 

"I am not!" _Anyway, this isn't really happening. It's not ever _going_ to happen. It's just…_

Prove it, demanded the sphinx. 

__

Gods damn it, Anya thought darkly. _How the hell am I going to_… Something important was going on in the wedding. She wasn't really sure what it was. Or, more accurately, she didn't care. After all, it wasn't really happening. All that she had to do was prove that she wasn't afraid of living. How could anyone be afraid to live, after all? She was much more afraid of dying, when she thought about it. 

Bells- wedding bells- went off inside her head. _You have _got_ to be kidding me_, she thought to herself. _Aw, hell._ So maybe commitment wasn't so horrible. So maybe she needed to let go of her past and get on with her life. Maybe she needed to give life a chance. Maybe she needed to give Sirius a chance. Well, she'd certainly done that, hadn't she? Anya smiled in spite of herself. Alright. So maybe life wasn't so bad after all. "Alright," she said aloud. "You're right. I'm afraid of giving life a chance. I'm afraid of getting what I want and having it taken away. You know what? So's everyone else. But most people take some risks. So this will be one of mine." 

The darkness evaporated. When Anya opened her eyes, the sphinx was just finishing her yawn. She got up, stretched, and moved out of the way, allowing everyone to pass her. Remus went first- straight into the fire of the fourth trial.

*

Remus was not looking forward to his trial. He had seen the faces of Chloë and Ginny when they had finished and knew that it was highly probable that he would not like whatever he was about to see. 

Intangible flames surrounded him, teasing his senses and his nerves. They would not kill him- the water had not drowned Ginny and the fall from the tree nymph hadn't hurt Chloë, and although he wasn't exactly sure what the sphinx had done to Anya, he was fairly sure that she wasn't permanently damaged. Besides, how was it possible to pass the test if it killed him?

The light from the fire enveloped him suddenly, pure and bright white, making his skin tingle. _So you are the Wolf,_ said a voice that came, impossibly, from all directions at once. Remus fought the impulse to reach for his wand.

"I am Remus Lupin," he said, feeling that his voice sounded clumsy, as if he were speaking a foreign tongue. "There is a difference."

__

Is there indeed? the Voice inquired, sounding intrigued. _Are you not the same Remus Lupin whose Wolf ran rampant around the Hogwarts grounds just a year and a half ago?_

"I didn't hurt anyone," Remus said defensively. It was a weak and possibly moot point, and he knew it. Who was this Voice, this Fire, to taunt him like this? He wasn't likely to forget what he had almost done; why did he have to be reminded of it?

__

Oh no? replied the Voice, sounding falsely curious. _Aren't you the same Remus Lupin whose fault let Peter Pettigrew go free, resulting in much emotional pain for so many?_

"Shut up. That wasn't my fault."

__

The same Remus Lupin whose parents asked_ for him to be cursed as he is? Who were instrumental in the creation of a wizard Mafia?_

"You cannot blame my parents' crimes on me." Remus wanted nothing more than the end of the trial.

__

The same Wolf, the same Remus Lupin, who dares think himself worthy of the love of a human?

Gods, it knew. It _knew_. Remus closed his eyes against the light. How it knew, he really had no idea or desire to discover. But it did, and it was taking advantage of that fact.

__

You could curse her, you know, said the Voice almost conversationally. _Make her your own. Have a couple of pups-_

Remus growled. It was a harsh, angry sound, more like a cougar than a wolf, an almost human cry of rage.

__

Or maybe you'll just lose control, the Voice continued. _One full moon? Real romantic setting. Think how good her flesh would taste, sliding down your throat-_

Remus was very nearly sick to his stomach. How dare it? How? This was impossible- unreal- gods, he could almost see her, face contorted in agony and horror… "You bastard," he said without feeling, sinking to his knees. He was sure he had lost.

__

Does Hallie know, Wolf? Does she know what you are?

Remus raised his head defiantly. "She knows." This was only partially a lie- she knew of his lycanthropy but not what it meant for him. The conditions that had been placed on his existence. "It does not matter." He put as much conviction into his voice as he could and found that he almost believed himself. 

The firewall disappeared. Remus' eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he realized that Harry and Ginny were watching him curiously. He wondered if this was because they had heard his defensive outbursts or because he was on his knees in a still-smoldering pile of ashes. 

Remus got to his feet, absently brushing a hand over his patched robes in an effort to clean them. He noticed that Sirius was also watching him interestedly, but Sirius was a lot less concentrated than Ginny and Harry- he was occupied with other things, namely Anya. They were standing just a little too close for their conversation to have been perfectly innocent and Anya's gaze was lowered. Remus decided that it would probably be tactless to remind them that he could hear what they were saying no matter how quietly they spoke.

Without further comment, they continued on, rounding a bend on the path. By now the mist was so thick that Remus could barely see the rest of the group. He missed completely the gate that the seven of them walked under, proclaiming the path they were on to be the Way.

*

Charlie hardly noticed when he got separated from the group. There seemed to be a sort of magic in the air, drawing him forward like the Pied Piper drew the rats of Hamlin. Without knowing what he was doing, he stopped beneath an arch and looked up. The glass and cast-iron motto read _Speculum Formido_. Unconsciously, Charlie stepped closer to the mirror that was under it.

There was a deep, jagged scratch running almost vertically down the center of the mirror, bisecting Charlie's reflection. He reached up a hand to touch it and ran his hand absently down the crack. 

Charlie frowned. Something about the reflection was not quite right. He leaned forwards to inspect it-

And something dragged him through the mirror, which suddenly had a surface like a sort of gel. 

On the other side things were very different. He was in a clearing now, for one thing, although he didn't know where. There were dark shapes all around him, none of them close enough for him to see what they were. Driven by his curiosity and a compelling desire to discover what was going on, Charlie made his way towards the nearest shape.

It loomed out of the mist like nothing he had ever seen before. It was gray and hard and cold. Engraved upon it was a name.

__

Anya Dickinson.

Charlie stepped backwards quickly, almost stumbling over another low stone. It was a graveyard, and his best friend was gone. _Oh gods, tell me this isn't real._ A heavy, almost numbing sensation came over him and he wretched.

Morbid curiosity got the better of him, and he soon found himself reading all of the names. _Chloë Sanderson. Sirius Black. Erica Yudelman. Harry Potter. Percy Weasley. Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, Arabella Figg, Leon Dickinson, Mundungus Fletcher, Remus Lupin. George Weasley. Katherine Beard. Jonathan Chortos. Penelope Clearwater. Arthur Weasley Molly Weasley Frederick Weasley William and Anne Weasley Ronald Weasley oh gods they're all dead_. 

Charlie leaned heavily against the final tombstone, wondering if he should read the name. It didn't matter. He knew whose it was. Unseeingly, his fingers traced over the words. It wasn't fair, really. He was the only one left. He had failed them- had failed _her_. Was he doomed to live his life alone, then, without contact from anyone? The graveyard stretched out as far as he could see, which was a fair way now that the fog had lifted. 

Could he just give up? he wondered. Theoretically speaking, with no one else around, was there really a point in living? 

A cloud opened up overhead and it began to pour rain. It was cold and Charlie was miserable, soaked through to the bone with icy water. It ran in torrents down the tombstone, almost obscuring the delicate lettering. Time seemed to speed up as he watched it, and it seemed to him that the letters were being eroded before his very eyes. What could he do? He was imprisoned within his own nightmare.

The thing to do, then, was wake up. Charlie cast one last glance at the dissolving letters before the words _Virginia Weasley_ were completely erased, and then walked purposefully in one direction until he came to a fence. He only turned back long enough to cast one very simple spell to a magnitude that it had probably never been cast before. "_Orchiddeous._"

*

__

'Repercussus Sceleratus,_'_ recalled Sirius somewhat unhappily. _Wonderful_. He had just wanted to get a closer look at the mirror and when he had, it had fallen on its side and surrounded him. As a result, all that he could see in any direction was a reflection of himself. It wouldn't have been so bad except for the fact that none of the reflections showed him as he was now.

The first one that caught his attention was probably the earliest version of himself- just fifteen, and just about to commit his first major crime against his best friend. Sirius still didn't know why he had told Snape how to get past the Whomping Willow. What Remus might suffer through had just never occurred to him. It had been stupid, and irrational, and very nearly gotten people killed. His fault.

To the right of it was a much worse image. A young Sirius Black, convincing his friends what a good bluff it was to use Peter for a Secret-Keeper. How clever he'd thought he was; how infallible! And how that had turned out! A young Sirius Black, insisting that his friend could not be trusted. A young Sirius Black, unwittingly causing the deaths of two of his best friends because he was too blind to see past his own prejudices. His fault.

Worse still, an impression of an alley, full of people. A confrontation in a corner. An explosion, a scampering rodent, and then nothing but manic laughter… Sirius shuddered. Yes, that had been his fault, too. He should have paid more attention to Peter. Peter was always getting himself into trouble.

A shack, up on a hill, dark on a moonlit night. A broken leg, a defiant friend, a reunion with his old companion. And another old friend, one turned traitor, who went free and unpunished, fleeing back to his master. This too was Sirius' fault, but he was unrepentant. James would have wanted them to give Peter a chance. He owed James that much.

A long, nasty gash down Anya's leg, inflicted by one of Peter's cronies. Nearly getting Remus killed in Italy. Peter's kidnapping of Leon. His fault, his fault, _his fault_. 

For what? Sirius wondered. This was a suicide mission. They were all going to get killed anyway. There could be no victory without sacrifices.

Which brought up an interesting point. For the first time, Sirius found himself wondering what would have happened if James and Lily hadn't died. It was likely that Voldemort would have even more power than he did at the moment, wasn't it? But Sirius couldn't bring himself to believe that anything good had come of their deaths. It was too gruesome to comprehend. 

At least he had a chance to make amends. Not like Peter would, when he got a hold of him.

The mirrors dissipated. Was that it, then? Sirius wondered. And then he spotted Harry.

*

It wasn't the Mirror of Erised. He was sure, because the Mirror of Erised, at that moment, would have shown him meeting the Seven and getting the heck out of wherever they were. Instead, the inscription above it read 'Specularis tentationis' and instead of a single reflection it gave several faceted ones. 

In one of them, he saw his parents- not quite as they had been in the Mirror of Erised, but it was a close thing. They were cooing over a little baby, one that he knew had to be him. Harry wanted desperately to reach out, to touch this picture of perfection and make himself a part of it, but dared not. 

Another facet showed the apprehension of Wormtail- literally disarmed and unconscious, possibly even dead. This was tempting, too. It was Wormtail's fault that Harry had no parents to begin with. It was Wormtail who had robbed Harry's godfather of his freedom. It was Wormtail who had kidnapped Leon and Wormtail who had brought Voldemort back to power. But Harry left this temptation alone. Though he had a thirst for revenge, when he took it, it would be a just revenge. He wouldn't sully himself for Wormtail. It wasn't worth it. 

The final temptation, however, nearly broke Harry's resolve. It depicted Ginny, a little older perhaps, maybe a little wiser, and more beautiful than ever before, loving him. Not in any crude physical sense of the word, but genuinely loving him, an experience he had not had before and wanted with an almost unfathomable desire. There had been moments- sometimes when Sirius was just a little too eager to hear about the latest Quidditch match, and there was always something in the atmosphere at the Burrow that made him feel cherished- but these moments were short and awkward and not enough. 

Yet Harry knew that he was really not ready to commit to any relationship involving the dreaded 'l-word.' He could give a very clear definition of what it was but experiencing it himself was a different matter entirely. So Harry chose none of these reflections. "Let me pass," he commanded the mirror. Oh, he wanted to see his parents again... 

The mirror moved aside. Behind it was a large rock stuck through with a sword. 

__

You have got to be kidding me. Harry refrained from commenting aloud as he stepped up to it cautiously. Alright. So there was a sword in a stone. Big deal. It didn't mean anything, right? He probably wouldn't be able to pull it out, anyway. They were probably rusted together. 

To prove this to himself, Harry reached out and gave the sword a slight tug. It came free easily, blade reflecting dim sunlight, and suddenly the courtyard they had been in vanished. 

Instead, Harry found that the rock had been turned to a huge, circular table and he was now sitting at it, the sword sheathed at his side. There were thirteen other chairs, six of which the rest of the group had taken. They seemed quite as bewildered as he was. There was no more open space- instead, they occupied a room which looked as if it might have come straight from a fairy tale, or perhaps a much older version of Hogwarts. _What is going on here?_

He didn't have the chance to ask just then, because the door to the chamber opened and in walked several tall, lithe beings. Harry did not need to ask who they were. Without hesitation or exception, he and the other six Chosen rose to their feet.

The apparent leader of the Seven spoke. "Welcome to Avalon."

*

Charlie's mind was a whirl, trying to keep up with all of the incredible things he had just been told. The Seven still stood behind their chairs at the table, waiting for everything to be absorbed. 

Unsurprisingly, his sister was the first to recover. "So what you're saying," the would-be-Ginny said, absently turning her dagger over in her hand, "is that we have roughly five hours to trap these buggers in another dimension or the world will go to hell."

Charlie blinked. Since when had his sister talked like that? He was sure his mother would have an aneurysm if she heard. He hoped it had something to do with the fact that she was most probably possessed. 

But the leader of the Seven- a tall, well-built being with curly silver hair and eyes called Manannan- was nodding. "Essentially, yes. We can send you back to your own time at almost any point after you left, but you should go soon. The window between worlds is only open for seven hours in the first place- Faerie time. It opened about two hours before you came here, which means there are almost five left."

__

Two hours, Charlie wondered. _A lot of damage can be done in two hours_. Ginny's freckles were standing out more than normal. He realized that his were probably doing the same. 

Harry spoke next. "What exactly are we up against? What do we have for resources?" He wasn't acting himself, either, Charlie thought curiously. Not since pulling the sword- The Answerer, Manannan had called it- from the stone. He wished he had time to test his hypothesis that the spirit of whatever had gotten into the youngest members of the extended task group was residing in their weapons. 

"Seven Drifter lords and their keeper," answered another one of the pseudo-gods. Or, rather, goddesses, Charlie corrected himself. Badb was taking care of most of the things that dealt with the upcoming battle. "Balor. You must be cautious when approaching him, for he can see out of the back of his head as well as the front. Once he returns to Faerie, the Seven Lords will be forced to follow."

"And how do we arrange that?" Sirius asked, sitting forwards a bit with his elbows on the table.

Badb turned her cool gaze on him. "You will be permitted to use magic against the Seven Lords, but it will not help you against Balor. He is a Shadow Dragon. You must shine light into his core to banish him from your world."

__

Oh good, Charlie thought. _Another riddle_. Well, at least he knew how to do with normal dragons. He hoped it would help him out, if only a little. It was ironic that Badb's last statement was the most specific answer they had gotten so far- the Seven kept insisting that the Morrígan, whoever that was, wouldn't take kindly to their offering any help at all, let alone being clear about what they meant. Sighing, he prepared to ask the last question. "Alright. When do we leave?"

*

__

I had to ask, Charlie thought bitterly, pulling out his wand. For reasons unknown to him, they hadn't been sent back anywhere near where they had left. They were probably, he reflected, where they had to be this time. 

It was just before five o'clock at Stonehenge, he estimated by the position of the sun. It hadn't quite set yet, and so from his vantage point seemed to hover just inches above the enormous Heel Stone. He had a feeling that the trouble was about to start.

The suspicion was short-lived- with a sound like thunder in a perfectly cloudless sky seven demons appeared, a great darkness at their center. The battle had begun.

*

Harry needed no prompting whatsoever to draw his sword. The mere sound of the arrival of his enemies was enough to make his hand itch for something useful. Across the circle from him, Ginny nodded and drew her own dagger. Sirius and Remus removed their robes to reveal more combat-worthy clothing underneath. Charlie and Anya rolled up their sleeves. Everyone was preparing to deal with these new threats the way they had been trained. 

It was fairly ironic, Harry thought, that the only time he had handled a sword before was battling another large serpent. He had a feeling that the basilisk was nothing more than an irritating worm when compared to something like Balor. 

The shadow dragon in the middle of the circle of Drifter Lords seemed to be growing as the sun began to set. Harry knew that they didn't have much time before it would be too powerful to stop and too late to send it back. Not knowing what else to do, he charged. 

It was a good thing that he did, too, because seconds after he moved, a piercing green light burned through the space he had just vacated. Apparently Voldemort wasn't ready to fight fair. He had Death Eaters staked out among the pillars at Stonehenge, just waiting for an opportunity to kill his enemy or cause him pain. Harry did not let this distract him. If there were Death Eaters hiding at Stonehenge it was no different than Quirrell at Hogwarts or Ron's pet Scabbers. He was in no more danger, and no less, he reasoned, than he had been then. Either of the two could have killed him, but both had left well enough alone. He hoped he could keep his record that clean. 

The Drifter Lord was also not fighting fair. Any chance he had, he reached out and touched Harry's bare hand, draining him of magic. Of course, Harry wasn't exactly using magic and the steps forward put the Drifter in close range of Harry's sword, so it probably wasn't a good strategy anyway. Still, the lord was very agile and his own dark weapon, clanging against Answerer with a peculiar lack of sound, pretty much prevented him from coming to any harm. 

He was a good swordsman, too. Harry himself was inexperienced and clumsy, but Answerer left no room for that- the sword directed his movements as much as he himself had control over them, always knowing where to go, how to parry, how to put a sharp thrust past his enemy's defenses. But it wasn't enough. The Drifter Lord kept coming, furiously, attacking Harry with savagery he had never before encountered. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ginny dispatch one of the others in a furious discharge of magic. Even as she was pulling the knife away from the creature's body, she was being approached by another one. He hoped she could handle it… 

Answerer was struck from his hands and Harry found himself looking up, up into the soulless black eyes of his opponent. He was bringing his weapon to bear- this would be the end- 

Harry's own reflexes kicked in. It wasn't too much different from being about to fall off one's broom. What you had to do was wait for the right moment, tuck, and _roll_- 

The sword was descending. Harry sprung forwards and tucked his body in on itself, passing straight under the Drifter Lord's arm. He came up several steps behind his opponent, sword in hand, and without thinking about it further, cut him down. 

He was mildly surprised when, split seconds later, he found that there was only a sliced-up cloak and a pair of still-smoking boots left over from a being more terrifying than a Dementor. Searching around for the others, he found that the four remaining lords were engaged in combat- Sirius and Remus had three between them, and Charlie was dueling another somewhere nearby, half-hidden by a few massive stones. Ginny, Anya and Professor Sanderson were slowly surrounding the darkness, leading it away for reasons that Harry didn't care to fathom.

One of the lords escaped from Sirius and Remus and headed over to Harry, who grimaced. He cast a fleeting look at the retreating Ginny, wishing he could help, but drew his sword again and parried it against the Drifter's, trying not to let the green flashes over by his godfather distract him. A black blur crossed through them, pulling its wand, and that was all the time Harry had to spare for unnecessary observations. His arms fell into a dull, predictable pattern that he knew was going to be very bad for his health. Thrust. Parry. Block…

*

Ginny stepped back involuntarily from the heat of the demon's breath. Light. She needed light.

Balor's nostrils flamed again and a gout of black flame shot out at Professor Sanderson. She wasn't quite quick enough jumping away, and Ginny was sure she smelled charred flesh. Charlie was sprinting over from up by the megalith, shooting powerful white-hot curses at the shadow dragon to little avail. Apparently curse-light was not enough. All her brother seemed to be accomplishing was making Balor really hopping mad. He spun about abruptly, knocking out both Charlie and the professor with furious discharges of dangerous magic. 

Ginny backed up, flashing her blade dangerously and keeping it in a sort of backguard, flat against her wrist. They began to circle around a large, flat, red-tinged stone. The sun dropped closer to the horizon.

The flashes of light up at the main circle of stones were growing more frequent. Advance- feint left- retreat-

She suddenly found herself on her back on the flat Slaughter Stone, staring up at a hungry beast with one wide, gleaming red eye, flinching away from the heat of his breath. He reared back, ready to pounce, and Ginny tensed. This was it. There was the snap of something distinctly magical.

Ginny, without knowing how she had managed it, now had the shadow dragon pinned to the stone. She really didn't know how this was supposed to work. Doubtfully, she raised her blade…

*

Harry pulled his sword from the Drifter's cloak with a jerk. The sun was almost set. He looked around for Ginny, spotting her over by the Slaughter Stone, her opponent pinned down. What had Badb said? The adrenaline of battle had nearly washed it away. It was-

Light. Two hugely bright, consecutive flashes, green and bright white, emitted from the center of the megalith. Harry raised his sword-arm to shade his eyes. Answerer, without his permission, redirected itself so that the light was reflected towards Ginny-

Ginny caught the light on her dagger and directed it down at the monster on the slab in front of her-

The sun balanced for a split second above the Heel Stone and sank below the horizon-

There was a gaping blackness and the strong sensation of vertigo-

And suddenly it was over. Harry looked up, feeling all at once the weight of the sword, casting about for everyone as he let it drop to his side. Charlie was healing a severe burn on Professor Sanderson's arm over by the outer circle of linteled pillars. Remus and Sirius, looking exhausted, dirty, and in Sirius's case, blood-stained, were over by the Heel Stone, staring blankly at him. And Ginny- Aine?- was just pulling her dagger from the Slaughter Stone. Even as she did so, the dark sheen on the blade faded, then seemed to peel away entirely. She looked up at him and nodded, her features emotionless. 

As one body, the six of them turned towards the megalith. In an unspoken agreement they waited for Ginny to catch up to them before venturing any closer. With hesitant steps, she led the way into the center of the monument. 

The seventh member of their team was half-sitting, half-resting against two of the bluestones in the middle. Her dark hair was in complete chaotic disarray, fanned out behind her in a very uncharacteristic mess. Not too far away, between two of the pillars bridged by a heavy lintel, laid the limp body of Peter Pettigrew. The last of the light was fading from the stones, but even then it was easy to see that their skin had taken on a translucent aspect and Harry felt something stir in his stomach. He could not look at Sirius or Charlie when Ginny stepped forwards to feel Anya's pulse, and turned away entirely when she voiced what he had known since seeing the body. "She's dead." 

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	15. Judgement

__

The Lion and the Unicorn

Chapter Fifteen: Judgement

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, names, situations, locations, the whole kit and caboodle belong to J. K. Rowling, Warner Bros., inc., Scholastic, and anyone else who's dug their greedy little fingers into the pie.

Author's Note: I realize I left off at a cliffhanger last time. Sorry. I'll let you get on with the fic. This is also a very short chapter, mostly because I've already made my point. An epilogue will be forthcoming shortly.

Summary: In which there are one or two expected twists, everything is wrapped up in Christmas paper, we see one or two last Christmas gifts, and everyone passes judgement.

*

__

'And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.'

- The Beatles_, The End_

*

"No," Sirius said very quietly, staring down at the carnage. Wormtail's body featured many bumps and bony protrusions, not to mention the great bloody mess that had been made of his head. It appeared that he had been slammed repeatedly into one of the huge pillars with incredible and deadly force. "This cannot be his end." He drew his wand, hand shaking. "You did this," he said, his voice growing louder. "You did this! THIS!" His whole body was trembling now. "I trusted you!" he shouted. "You were my friend and I trusted you with my friends' lives and you repaid me by throwing everything back in my face! I should have killed you when I had the chance!" Remus tried to restrain him, but Sirius shook him off angrily. He was too far gone. "I can't even blame you!" he railed. "Only myself! How can I live with myself? I HAVE MURDERED _SLEEP_!" Sirius' face twisted grotesquely as he turned it up to the sky. "I did that to myself, and I admit it! But you, Peter, you have murdered a dream! _Traitor_." His last word died into silence and he collapsed where he was standing. 

Charlie was so pale that Harry feared he might just collapse next to Sirius and refuse to move. Chloë squeezed his hand awkwardly and they turned away from each other in almost-silence. Harry was pretty sure he heard sniffles coming from that direction. He himself was having troubles coming to grips with his emotions; everything seemed so like a dream that emotion was superficial. Remus stood behind Sirius, head bowed, and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. 

Sirius, for once, did not seem to resent the gesture. He was trembling on the ground beside Anya's body, clasping a hand not yet devoid of inner heat and looking very dangerous indeed for someone who was in mourning. Harry wondered detachedly if Sirius was sane. 

He didn't have long to wonder. Sirius raised his head slowly, turning a bleak and almost angry gaze on Ginny, or whoever had taken over her body. She still stood almost regally, chin lifted, but Harry thought he saw her tremble under the stare. Sirius spoke in a low, treacherous voice, raw with anger and emotion left over from his earlier tirade. "Bring her back," he commanded, and Harry saw his fingers tighten around Anya's. "I know you can do it. I have seen you do stranger things." 

The granite-gray eyes that did not belong to her flicked coolly over him. "That is the art of necromancy. She is already dead, Sirius. Would you have me risk the Brighid's wrath by playing with Fate?" 

"Come on, Sirius. It's time to-" 

Sirius turned on Charlie (who seemed about to be sick), shaking with rage and grief. "I cannot leave her here!" he exploded, causing everyone to take a good step backwards. "I won't!" 

Gently, Remus moved forwards and attempted to coax him back from the body. "What would you do for her, Sirius?" 

Harry felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as Sirius looked down at her forlornly. "Die," he whispered sadly. Harry wanted to hide from his tortured gaze. The first stars winked into existence behind him, lending their silent support. 

Ginny- or whatever had taken over her body- sighed. "Then I have no choice," she said simply. "You had better hope that the Brighid takes a liking to you. Kneel." Sirius did so, and she intertwined his fingers with those of the fallen Sidhe. "Close your eyes," she instructed. "And whatever you do, don't move." With that, she stepped back a bit, spreading her fingers and muttering under her breath. A wind blew suddenly, warm and furious, with Ginny, Sirius and Anya in the center. Between her fingers a static charge was building, blue and crackling and almost alive. There was a loud clap of thunder and she raised her hands to the sky, conducting the lightning all around them. Her whole body electric blue with static electricity, Ginny's hand moved toward her side and the knife that was sheathed there. Without further ceremony, she moved forward and drove it through the back of Sirius' left hand and into Anya's, breaking the fragile scab, still speaking under her breath. This time, the cyclonic winds carried her voice to Harry's ears. "Quid sum miser nunc dicturus? Quem patronum rogaturus? Cum vix justus sit securus!" She shouted this last part and the lightning resumed its erratic striking. 

This time, Ginny made no move to control it. There was no sound besides the howling of the wind in Harry's ears. Around him, figures began to flicker in and out of existence. Between the huge pillars of stone, cloaked and hooded women appeared for split seconds at a time, surrounded by the same blue aura that had enveloped Ginny. Harry was fairly certain that there were two or three of them, but couldn't be absolutely sure- they never stayed long enough for him to get a good look. They were all whispering enchantments but Harry, near the middle of the circle, could not hear them properly or discern them from each other. All he knew was that they came from different directions, once behind him but beside him seconds later. 

The storm was building. There would be no rain, Harry could tell, but that didn't mean it wasn't a storm. He could feel its charge in his very bones and needed do little more than open his eyes to see that there was a roiling, dense cloud gathering just above them. Then the whispers grew louder and died out, taking the wind with them. Harry held his breath. 

Seven sizzling bolts of lightning struck one by one around him, branching out until they all touched the stone on which Anya rested. There was a loud snap when they again broke contact with the earth, and as quickly as it had begun, the storm was over. The cloud still hung ominously, stretching to the farthest edges of Harry's vision. Ginny pulled the knife with a vicious tug from Sirius' hand and collapsed on the ground beside him, the blade falling to thump anticlimactically at her side. 

Unsure of why he was doing what he was, Harry picked it up and cleaned it on the grass before sliding it back into the sheath at Ginny's waist, then, awkwardly because of her seeming reluctance or inability to move, pulled her into an embrace. Her eyes, at some point in the course of the last few minutes, had darkened back to brown, and he wouldn't be surprised if she didn't remember a damned thing that had gone on later. 

Yet even Ginny could not hold his attention for long. In front of Anya and Sirius a woman had appeared, looking at the same time proud and humble, cruel and kind, vengeful and forgiving. In her arms she carried a heavy, open book with the Gaelic word for 'Judgement' inscribed on the spine in gold. Sirius watched her unfazed with pleading eyes, and eventually she spoke, or what could be called speaking for lack of a better term. It was more like the words simply appeared in Harry's head as he attempted to listen. "You are an honorable man, Sirius Black." She looked down at the half-Sidhe at her feet. "You would do this for her?" Sirius merely nodded. "As she would have for you." The Brighid's eyes fluttered closed and she slammed the book shut. It immediately erupted into flame, but it did not burn. "I will withhold my judgement. Her welfare is no longer my responsibility." She flickered a bit, and then the Book of Judgement's fire enveloped her, too, and the cloud receded as quickly as it had gathered and then she was gone. 

*

She was just standing in the doorway when he found her, watching. Outside on the windowpanes there was a thin layer of snow; the flakes reflected starlight from the deep, moonless night, perfect, pristine crystals in a world that did not know it had been saved. Complete innocence. It seemed such a long time ago that he'd lost his.

"You love him," Charlie said, sounding unnaturally loud in the darkness. He had suspected something for a very long time, but he hadn't anticipated this. It was so difficult to glean important personal details from owl post. She had certainly never come right out and said it.

Anya, to her credit, did not jump. She merely turned to regard him, quietly admonishing, "Hush. You'll wake him up." By silent agreement, seemingly reluctant on Anya's part, they retreated to the hallway and then to the sitting room.

"You could have told me," Charlie reproached gently, feeling some of the tension drain out of him as he did his best to relax in the firelight. 

"You could have told me what happened between you and Chloë," Anya returned, stretching out on the sofa. "Which I expect you to fill in for me now, by the way."

He sighed. He knew he would never get away with anything less than the complete truth. "There was a third party involved," Charlie confessed. He could almost hear her eyebrows raising. "On her part, I mean, not mine. I do know better."

"I wasn't going to say- oh, Charlie, I'm sorry-"

He waved it off. "Don't be. I was going to break it off, anyway. It's not like I was in love with her." He paused. "So how long has this been going on, anyway?"

"Forever, yesterday, four months ago, tomorrow, last week, next Friday," she answered, sounding far away. "I think you're going to have to be a little more specific."

__

Apparently, Charlie thought ruefully. "You slept with him, didn't you?" 

Anya sat bolt upright. "What? Why would you think that?"

"That's a yes, then. When did you? And once again, why have I heard nothing of this?" It was a sort of refreshing change to be the one dishing out the teasing, Charlie thought with a sardonic grin. Even if it was sort of saddening that Anya had nothing to razz him about anymore. 

"You're just not going to give up, are you?" She relaxed again. "It'll be six days ago now."

"Six _days_?!" Charlie said incredulously. _And already Sirius looked as if he'd had his heart ripped out. I have a feeling this is going to be- and possibly even has been- a very interesting courtship_. "And I couldn't tell? I've not been a very good best friend, have I?"

"You were otherwise occupied," Anya said easily. "I forgive you." 

"That's all very well, but _I_ don't forgive me," Charlie said. "Although technically it's not all my fault. If you were just a little more informative in your letters-" He caught the pillow that she'd tossed his way. "Well, you could have said _something_. I mean, I probably wouldn't have joked about the present living arrangements so much. How long have you known?"

"Weeks. A little over a month, actually. Since Bill's wedding, when it finally occurred to me that I was going to die." She smiled a bit, shadows from the firelight dancing over her features. "Glad that's over."

__

She's known for over a month, Charlie thought. _Good grief. I have been overlooking this for a very long time._ "And have you said anything to Sirius about it yet?" he asked.

"Er," came the answer that didn't need finishing.

"And I suppose Sirius hasn't brought up the subject either, although it's blatantly obvious how much he cares for you."

Anya mumbled something that Charlie didn't quite hear. 

"Sorry?"

"I told him not to say it," Anya repeated reluctantly. "I was going to die and I didn't want to complicate things and I didn't want to hurt him anymore than I already have, and, I don't know, it seemed like a good idea at the time…"

Charlie snorted. "So you were drunk, afraid and confused, eh?"

"That about sums it up, yes." 

"You should really just tell him, you know. It will make things a lot easier on both of you if you just get it out in the open." He wondered who he was to talk like that, but decided it was not worth analyzing at the present moment. 

"I wish it were that easy," Anya said with a sigh. "But it's really not- you know that. I've only been in love once before-" She stopped in mid-sentence and Charlie got the peculiar feeling that she had said something she hadn't meant to say. Indeed she must have; she had never mentioned anything about her romantic past before him at all.

He flinched a bit. "I know what you mean," he said, staring intently into the fire. But he didn't say anything. He had promised that he wouldn't bring it up. He wouldn't jeopardize their friendship for anything, not even this.

"Charlie," Anya began with a pleading sort of tone. He heard her get off the couch and walk over to the armchair. She knelt beside him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… Well, I shouldn't have. Do you want to talk about it? I really am sorry."

So that was it, then. After all these years, Anya was ready to talk about what had happened between them. It was at this point that Charlie realized he had lost her completely, probably forever. "It's alright," he said, trying to smile but not quite able to meet her gaze. After all, he had known for some time that she would never feel the same way about him that he did about her. If he was honest with himself, he truly hadn't expected her to and certainly didn't feel as strongly for her as he had before, but letting go of what might have been was proving very difficult. "Believe it or not, I do understand." 

She stood, pressed her lips to his forehead briefly, and ruffled his hair affectionately. It was almost, but not quite, like nothing had ever happened. "I know. You're the best, Charlie."

"I know I am," he replied, almost managing to sound cheerful. "Now go. Much as I hate to admit it, Sirius probably needs to see you more than I do right now, whether he's unconscious or not." He paused. "And I am fairly sure that you need to see him almost as badly."

"Are you sure? I mean, I can-"

"Go on," Charlie encouraged, smiling in earnest now, if a little wistfully. "I have a well-stocked liquor cabinet to keep me company. I'll be fine."

"Okay. Goodnight."

__

For one of us, anyway, Charlie thought self-pityingly. "Goodnight." But he made no move towards the liquor cabinet, even after she had gone. 

*

Sirius would never remember how exactly they'd gotten home. He had the vague idea that he hadn't been conscious for much of it. Had he studied Life Bonds, he would have known that the reason for this was that the states of the two beings were almost, but not quite, reversed once the ancient magic was invoked; it would take him a day or so to recover, but essentially there was nothing wrong with him. 

However, Sirius was not privy to this information, and the fact that he felt like he was a step from death was not very comforting. His eyes had automatically opened when the induced unconsciousness had worn off; he didn't have the energy to close them again. All he could see was a dark silhouette by the window, which seemed to be watching him closely.

"Good, you're awake," came Anya's voice. She moved closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "You had us worried for a minute there."

Sirius tried to laugh, but found he didn't have the energy. "That's ironic. You go and get yourself killed by Wormtail and _I'm_ the one who everyone worries about. Although I suppose worrying about someone is generally useless if they're already dead." He paused, gathering strength. "And I was pretty worrisome for a minute there, I admit." He was fairly sure he'd thrown some sort of tantrum, although the details were a little fuzzy.

"Remus was going to Stun you," she said with a small smile. "I'm very glad he didn't."

"Not nearly so much as I am," he responded dryly. "Although, I do feel like I've been run over by the Knight Bus. Next time, can you please avoid getting yourself killed by my arch nemesis?"

"I hope very much that there won't have to be a next time." Anya sighed. "But we all know that there's bound to be. Anyway, as your arch nemesis is quite dead himself, I doubt that avoiding being killed by him is going to be a problem."

"Dirty rat," Sirius spat halfheartedly. "He got no more than he deserved."

"Having seen him die, albeit during an out-of-body experience, I'd have to say that he got rather less. He should have suffered." The cold steel in her voice sent an icy chill down Sirius' spine. He immediately resolved never to get on her bad side. 

"He was my friend once, you know," Sirius said. "I never even suspected him of being a traitor. I thought it was Remus. I spent twelve years hating myself and Peter for what happened. I'm not sure I'll ever forgive either of us. There is nothing I can ever do to make up for what I did before. I have to live with that. Can you?"

A faint, sad smile danced across her features before disappearing, and she reached out and took his hand. "If I must. That doesn't mean I won't try to change it. I think fourteen years of living the way you did is enough. But there is something I want you to do."

Sirius swallowed and closed his eyes. He knew what she meant. Gods, how could he not? "I don't think-"

"I know you don't," Anya said quietly. "But you know you have to do it, and I know you have to do it, and that's not enough." After kissing him softly, she backed away. "You need your rest. I'll let you be for now."

"You should be in bed," Sirius mumbled exhaustedly. He was fairly sure she'd put some sort of sleeping enchantment on him.

She couldn't hide the smile in her voice from him, no matter how tired he was. "Is that an invitation, Sirius? I rather think you haven't got enough energy to be any good to me at the moment." He heard her sink into the chair by the window as if from a great distance. "Sleep. I promise I'll still be here in the morning."

He did, and to his complete lack of surprise, she was.

*

Ginny awoke in an unfamiliar room, feeling as if she were missing a great portion of her memory. There was a big gap where most of the previous day was concerned. She vaguely recalled sneaking into Harry's room the preceding morning to get his cloak and finding that he was already awake. Then they had tagged along to- where? She didn't remember. She knew that they had taken a Portkey back from wherever they had been, tired, and with an unconscious Sirius. She assumed she was at Dromore House, but couldn't say where, exactly. She hoped her mother wasn't too worried. 

Tired and sore, but curiously feeling like the cat that got the canary, Ginny managed to pull herself out of bed. Now that she could look around better, she found herself in a second-floor bedroom not dissimilar to her dormitory at Hogwarts, excepting of course the huge round turret in the corner. The frosted windowpanes and glass-and-wrought-iron trim door gave the room a very Christmasy feel, especially with the few inches of snow that adorned the balcony. 

Someone had left a rather large blue bathrobe on the end of the bed, for which Ginny was grateful. It was rather cold upstairs, probably owing to the fact that Dromore was a large, draughty old house, and she realized that she was still only wearing her robes from the previous day with a layer of Muggle clothes she'd nicked from Fred's closet underneath. In hindsight, it occurred to her that she probably should have brought a cloak of some sort on her escapade the night before, but she still didn't even know where she'd been, so blaming the virus she was sure she was developing on that was probably futile until she had more information. She slid her feet into the pair of overlarge slippers before venturing towards the door.

It opened before she got there and Harry stepped in, looking rather beat up to Ginny's expert eye. "Ginny! What are you doing up?"

"Haven't I missed breakfast?" she asked curiously, glancing out the window again. The sun was rather high in the sky…

"Ah, no," Harry answered. "Neither Remus nor your brother can cook for toffee and Anya and Sirius are, ah, having a bit of a lie-in…" He turned very red. Ginny bit her lip to keep herself from laughing. Poor Harry, never having older brothers who muttered shamelessly obscene and innuendo-laced things day and night. "And I was waiting for you," he finished.

She smiled. "Well, I'm up, and I feel like I could eat a dragon." For some reason, that felt incredibly strange to say. "Also, my memory of last night is somewhat lacking. You can fill me in while you make breakfast." Harry made a face at her, which she readily returned. "I see you've gotten yourself some more scars. Malfoy will certainly be impressed."

He swatted at her halfheartedly, grinning, then caught her hand, sobering. "You've got a few nasty ones yourself." He turned her arm over gently, revealing a long burn lengthwise down her forearm and a deep scratch crossing it near her elbow at a thirty-degree angle. "Ron is going to kill me. I promised I wouldn't let them hurt you."

Ginny scoffed. "I'm fine. I have no idea what happened last night, but other than that, I'm fine."

"If this is fine," Harry growled, "I'll kiss Malfoy."

"I hope not," she said, "he doesn't deserve you." She leaned over and kissed him on the nose. "Now, how about that breakfast?"

*

Charlie stood in the queue at Sparc, regretting leaving Anya's last-minute Christmas grocery shopping until the last minute. There was to be a celebration at Dromore House on Christmas Eve, and Anya had decided that if she was going to cook, she was most certainly not doing the shopping. It was for this reason that Charlie stood in an almost disgustingly long lineup, luckily nearing the front.

The witch in front of him seemed very familiar, but he couldn't remember where he had seen her before. She was slender, just under his height and had chocolate-latte colored skin and short, sun-bleached blonde hair. She also wore dark red robes, but that was all he could see.

The woman proceeded to the cashier to pay for a few items. Charlie could have sworn that, when the cashier told her the amount, someone muttered, "Bloody Pom money… Galleons and sickles, my arse…" He frowned. Even her voice was familiar. It sounded Australian, or something…

Then she looked up at him as she finished packing up her groceries. Her green eyes sparkled in recognition. "Charles Weasley," she observed, shaking her head. "Fancy meeting you here."

Something in her face jump-started his brain and he grinned wryly, finally able to put a name to the memory. "Katherine Beard," he said, amazed to see her. He hadn't seen her in months, since his rotation on the larger dragon reserve in Romania around May. "You're far from home. What brings you to merry old England?" As if on cue, thunder sounded outside. The sky was clouding over again.

She shook her head, and Charlie had the unsettling impression that the forced solemnity on her face had just given way to something more sincere. "It's a long story, although I suppose I could ask you the same thing."

"I live here," replied Charlie matter-of-factly, paying for his groceries and heading towards the exit to keep pace with his old colleague. 

Katherine looked surprised. "I thought you said that rabid demons couldn't drag you away from the reserve!"

Shaking his head, he had to answer, "Well, they tried, and it turned out that I was wrong."

This elicited a curious expression from his companion, but she didn't ask. "So how's Anya? I heard about her brother…"

Charlie held up his shopping bag. "She's well enough to send me on her errands." He wondered how much, exactly, he could tell her about the events of the past week, and decided she probably wouldn't believe him anyway. "How she convinced me to go shopping the day before Christmas is beyond my comprehension."

A hint of a smile appeared on her lips. "I don't think that's quite true," she said, looking about as innocent as a twin in Zonko's. "You've always had a bit of a soft spot where she's concerned, admit it."

He chuckled humorlessly. "Katherine, you have no idea." It occurred to him to change the subject before the subject matter turned into something he didn't want to deal with. "How's Jon? Last I heard he was in charge of three adolescent Hungarian Horntail purebreds… he hasn't been fried yet, has he?"

When Katherine didn't respond right away, he glanced at her. Her whole demeanor suddenly seemed very cold. "Not that I know of. Although I suppose there's always hope," she added sourly.

Charlie cringed. Well, that had been the wrong thing to say. Apparently talk of lovers- ex-lovers- was a taboo subject for both of them. How very refreshing. "Ouch. Sorry."

She snorted. "Don't be- I'm not." Charlie had to wonder at that a little. Katherine had been with Jon for a little under four years. "It was bound to happen sometime- arrogant, self-serving bastard." 

He got the impression that she would have had to spit if she'd actually said his name. Her entire demeanor screamed for him to change the subject again. "You still haven't told me why you're in England. Frankly, this is the last place I expected to meet you." 

"Don't I know it. Staying on the reserve was not an option after Jon… well, after Jon, anyway. But shortly after I gave my notice I received an owl from an old friend- I shouldn't say 'friend'; he's a right old bastard, he is- about a position opening in the British Ministry's Department of Magical Creatures, and here I am."

"I thought that you had to be British to get a job at the Ministry," Charlie said, confused. 

"Dual citizenship," Katherine answered with a slight smile. "My father was- is- one of yours." There was that final tone in her voice again. Interesting, Charlie catalogued, another line of conversation she definitely didn't seem interested in pursuing. He wondered if it was at all possible that she was even pickier when it came to conversation than Anya was. But then, he hardly knew her as well as he knew Anya.

"Now there's something you wouldn't have admitted before," Charlie joked instead. "Half-Pom yourself, eh?" She made a face at him. "So where are we going?"

"You know, I was just about to ask you that same question. How about we find somewhere to wait out the rain before anything else?" Like it was preordained, a fat drop splattered on her nose. "Or before we get drenched, at the very least." With another crash of thunder, the clouds overhead opened up. Before either of them could move for cover, they were nearly soaked. Katherine didn't seem to be the least bit surprised. "Me and my big mouth."

"Yeah," Charlie agreed. "Way to go, Aeolos." The rain continued to pour down. "To the Leaky Cauldron?" he asked, pulling out his wand and casting a rather belated Waterproofing Charm. 

"I'd race you," she said cynically, eyeing the crowd that was trying to push through the archway, possibly having forgotten that they had wands and magic powers, "But it might be counter-productive."

"Yes," Charlie nodded. "I'd say that's an understatement. You don't have a backup plan, do you?"

"Florian Fortescue's," Katherine responded immediately. 

He blanched. "In the middle of December?"

"It's summer in Australia," she pointed out. 

Shrugging, Charlie gestured off to his left. "Right then. Florian's it is." 

The inside of the ice cream parlor was surprisingly warm and predictably empty. The only other patrons were two seemingly involved teenage boys that Charlie vaguely remembered from the blur that had been his life prior to the Christmas holidays. He had the feeling that one of them hadn't handed in the assignment that had been due before school broke up for the holidays, but wasn't about to raise the subject at that particular moment. 

They ordered Butterbeer and ice cream sundaes and sat in a relatively dark corner of the parlor, not wanting to attract attention. Katherine sighed and tucked her feet under her, digging her spoon into her ice cream, and decided to ask the first question. "So what are you _really_ doing here?"

Charlie shrugged, stalling to debate what he could tell her. "I guess you could say that I'm here because of Anya. I'm not sure I'd be here without her."

This seemed to surprise his companion a bit. "You _are_ still in love with her," she said incredulously, wide-eyed.

"Oh, I don't know. I think the past tense might just be required in this case."

"So what happened?"

Charlie sighed. "I went off to teach for Dumbledore and- rather unwisely, I might add- fell for another professor, and Anya started sleeping with Sirius Black."

Katherine looked like she might be choking on her Butterbeer. "She _what_?!"

"Well, maybe that's a bit oversimplified." He attempted to condense three hours of explanation into a few sentences. "We've known that he is innocent for a few months longer than everyone else has. Harboring a fugitive is a dangerous business, but it's difficult to refuse when you're one of the few who know the truth about his innocence. Anyway, Chloë was having an affair with another teacher and that was basically the end of our relationship. Anya is with Sirius now and he's good for her." Charlie found that, while the words stung on the surface, deep down it felt surprisingly good to admit that. 

"Ouch," Katherine observed, grimacing. "But at least it didn't take you four years to figure out you were in a relationship that meant nothing."

"Now I'm curious." Somehow he sensed that she was inviting him to ask questions, if he wanted to. "So what's your story? You hate Britain, or so I was led to believe."

"Here's a little secret for you, Charlie-" she leaned across the table, green eyes sparkling with an untold mystery. "We expatriates don't all dislike the country we live in as much as we make people believe. As far as living conditions, pay, and wizarding communities go, the U.K. is the place to be. It's mostly the weather that I despise." 

"The truth comes out." Charlie sobered. "What about you and Jon?"

She let out a long breath. "I'm not really sure. It was as if one day I woke up and everything that had been my life for four years was worthless. I didn't even see what a bastard he was until that day- I still don't know how I could have been that blind. The fights we used to have! Vicious things, and afterwards it was like none of the horrible things we had said hurt anymore. That's not right, somehow. A lot of those things never should have been said in the first place."

"Tell me about it." It was more of a rhetorical comment than a demand for more information, but Katherine continued anyway.

"You know what he told me when we first got together?" she asked, scooping out a clump of fudge-drenched soft ice cream. Charlie shook his head. "He used to tell me that when we first met he wanted to take me places that he didn't know existed." She shrugged and shoveled the bite into her mouth. "A few weeks ago I told him not to bother because there's no such place."

Now it was Charlie's turn to wince. "You told him, all right. You fought often?"

"Oh, no. But when we did, well… even the dragons gave us space. The last straw was my father." Katherine trailed off and fixed her gaze to a scratch on the table that she apparently found particularly riveting. "You might as well know- he was- is- a convicted Death Eater who got set free. Jon didn't know about it- he can be so obstinate when it comes to things like that- but by chance when he did find out, he just couldn't let it go. He found out what schools I went to as a child and pretty much accused me of being a Dark Witch myself. That's basically the time I told him to take a long walk off a tall cliff."

"Well, obviously." Privately, Charlie wondered if _he_ might have been so obtuse once upon a time. He hoped not, but there was the nagging voice of self-doubt that liked to put in appearances once in a while, especially after messy break-ups…

"So what's teaching like?" Katherine changed the subject tactfully. "I have to admit, I would never have pegged you for the type, but I guess you're doing all right with it."

He smiled gratefully. "Well, four of my siblings are in my classes, so it gets a little informal at times, but I think that's probably best. And of course I can't teach everything I want to because half of the students would end up fried or trampled or hexed into oblivion, depending on whether I brought in manticores or dragons or dryads. It's only a temporary position, anyway- I'm going to apply for Auror training in February. I'll feel so much more useful."

Her eyes darted back and forth quickly and she leaned across the table again. "So You-Know-Who is back." She looked more determined than afraid, although not much.

Charlie nodded. "We think he made his comeback sometime this summer- around June or so."

"We?"

Mentally cursing himself, he replied, "I can't tell you, so please don't ask."

She shrugged. "Fair enough." She scraped the last traces of half-melted ice cream from the bowl and popped the spoon into her mouth. "Why Auror training, if you don't mind my asking?"

"My brother Percy is with the Ministry. If he's an example of a young bureaucrat, I want to stay as far away from bureaucracy as possible."

"Watch it," Katherine warned, "one of us is already working out of an office. Holding office, as a matter of fact, so please keep those comments to yourself. Even if I do share your opinion, I have got my pride to think about."

"Sorry," he grinned.

"No, you're not."

His grin grew. "You're right, I'm not sorry. Not even a little bit. In fact, the comment might have been deliberate. But you may never know."

"That's supposed to be my loss, is it?" Katherine challenged.

Charlie laughed. "Okay, you win. I was teasing you. Now I find that the tables have turned and I'm not quite sure what to do. Any ideas?"

"Admit defeat?" she suggested innocently.

"Consider this my white flag." Charlie tossed his napkin at her and finished his Butterbeer. "So what are you doing for Christmas this far from home?" If he was honest with himself, he was a little worried. He knew from his own experiences that Christmas could easily be the loneliest time of the year.

"Not much," was her evasive non-answer. He stayed quiet. "I don't have the time or the ambition to go home for the holidays, which explains my being here. I don't feel like dealing with my mother _or_ my father at the moment."

"That much is understandable. Well, Anya and Sirius are throwing something of a Christmas Eve bash and you're welcome to join in. I'd hate to see all this," he gestured to the shopping bags, "go to waste." 

Katherine smiled. "Thanks. I just might do that." She glanced down at her wrist. "Oh! Would you look at the time. I've got to run- I have another job interview at the Ministry that I forgot to cancel."

Following her eyes, Charlie found that it was well past the time he had meant to leave. "Anya's going to skin me alive if I don't bring her food soon. I'll owl you about the Christmas party tomorrow, okay?"

She nodded. "Bye, Charlie!"

They Disapparated with a double _pop_.

*

Christmas Day was an exciting time at Dromore House. The party the previous day had gone off without a hitch and everyone had fully enjoyed themselves, despite the dark specter of a cloud that seemed to be hanging over the collective head of the Order of the Phoenix. Christmas morning had dawned late for everyone, at least partially because of some residue of the amounts of alcohol that the house's occupants had consumed. Everyone was awake by mid-afternoon, however; the smells coming from the kitchen became too much to resist even though they had certainly eaten their fill the day before.

It was doubtful that Dromore House had ever seen a motley collection quite like the one that was there now. All of the Weasleys were in attendance, including Bill and Anne, who had been particularly reclusive of late (at least according to Molly). Remus, Sirius, Mundungus and Arabella were also there, having no family to speak of to spend Christmas with. Leon, having woken early, was toddling happily in the kitchen getting under everyone's feet and generally causing chaos. 

"You know, although I'm sure he's got Quidditch potential, I sometimes wonder if he shouldn't be a Muggle track star." Anya turned away from her wand-waving to see Sirius standing in the doorway, an ironic smile upon his face.

"I think it's a little early to be deciding his future for him, don't you?" Anya teased, hiding a grin as her nephew screeched delightedly at Sirius' entrance and launched himself across the kitchen.

Arabella clucked from the table where she was slicing carrot sticks for the vegetable dip. "Sirius has had a future planned out for Leon since he set eyes on the lad. No pressure or anything, kid." Molly looked like she might be hiding a smile, but said nothing.

Leon just babbled on from Sirius' arms. "Turkey!" he shouted proudly. Sirius hung him upside-down by his ankles. 

"He most certainly is," Anya agreed, setting down her wand. "I think that ought to about do it. Does someone want to call the masses?"

"I'll do it," Arabella volunteered, untying her apron strings. 

Two minutes later they were sitting at the dinner table, which was laden down with all sorts of food they'd never eat. The table stretched the entire length of the dining room and had had to be magically enhanced so that everyone had enough elbow room. Everyone had given Leon a particularly wide berth after the previous evening's incident with the mashed potatoes. He had been insistent on re-mashing them and everyone within a four-foot radius of him had had to wash the potatoes out of their hair. 

"Merry Christmas," someone said after a moment of silence. There was a chorus of agreement and a toast, and then the feast began.

*

Most of the unwrapping was done by nine-thirty, when Sirius was handed a mysterious small parcel from Anya. She had a knowing, self-satisfied grin on her face, and the light dancing in her eyes reminded him uncannily of one of the Seven. It was only a sealed envelope lined with bubble wrap, but then the gift he had gotten her didn't stick much to the impression the package gave.

He ripped the end off of the envelope and peered inside, then looked back up at Anya. "You have got to be kidding me."

She smirked. "Try me."

His mouth suddenly dry, Sirius glanced at Remus for support. Remus was wearing much the same expression that Anya was. Sirius glanced out the window. It was _possible_… 

"Grab your jacket," he said, slipping the contents of the envelope into his pocket and going to the front entranceway. He snatched his jacket off of the coat rack and stepped onto the front porch, past the lawn gnomes. "Where?" he called over his shoulder at Anya, who was shrugging into her own coat. 

"Stables," she answered, springing down the steps after him. The pale light of the half-moon cast her features in shadow and at the same time turned her skin unnaturally pale. 

Sirius slipped his arm around her waist. "Lead the way."

Inside the stables, the air was considerably warmer than outside. Anya still kept a few horses, although she had little time for them these days, so it was heated. In one of the stalls was a long, lean shadow covered by a white sheet. Tentatively, Sirius reached over and pulled it off.

It was a black Harley Davidson exactly like the one he used to drive. "You weren't kidding," he breathed, reaching out a gloved hand and running it over the gauges. It was nearly a perfect copy, down to the customized grips on the handlebars. A hairline crack over the speedometer gave him pause. "This isn't-"

Anya squeezed his hand. "It is."

Sirius stared at his old motorcycle in disbelief. Dumbstruck, he could only ask, "How?"

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "I know someone in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. Let's just say he owed me a favor."

"You're incredible," he murmured. He tore his eyes away from the bike and regarded her devilishly. He hadn't had much time to think about the time he used to spend with the machine and how much he missed it, but now that he had the chance… "Well? Don't you want to go for a ride?"

"After you, Mr. Black."

The wind was fierce, but the night was clear, and with the light of the moon one could see for miles from their vantage point, though there wasn't much to see except a few other rolling hills and a house or two. The two of them lie beneath a bare tree, enjoying a silence that did not need to be broken. After a while, Anya spoke. "So _that'_s why it was in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department."

Sirius leaned over and kissed her forehead. "It's the only way to travel."

"Any other fun secrets you want to reveal while you're at it?"

He knew she was teasing, but she really had no idea… "Later," he whispered, winking. "Come on, let's go home. It's cold up here and I'm old." He offered her a hand up.

"I agree," she said, accepting his hand. She did not release him once she had stood. "With the possible exception of the old part."

"Flatterer," Sirius accused, leading her towards the motorcycle. He looked up at the sky before mounting, Anya snuggling close behind him. "Should we hurry? All the festivities will be over with and everyone might be sleeping by the time we get back."

"Let 'em sleep," Anya responded. Her arms tightened around his waist. 

Although it was very cold outside, Sirius suddenly became very warm under the skin. "I guess we're taking the long way." 

An indeterminate period of time later, he landed the motorbike back by the stables and took it inside. Rosy-cheeked and lighthearted, the two of them returned to a darkened house. The only light to speak of came from the Christmas tree in the sitting room in front of the piano. Someone, probably Remus, had already done away with all of the discarded wrapping paper. It almost looked like the day after Christmas, Sirius thought, but when he checked his watch he found that it was.

An apprehensive knot formed in his stomach. In the corner behind the Christmas tree stood one last gift, still wrapped. He used a Summoning Charm to maneuver it from its hiding place. Anya looked at it and laughed. The parcel was wider and taller than Sirius was. "It's not a cardboard facsimile of you, is it?"

"Even better." He smiled. "You'd better open it before Christmas is over. It just can't wait until next year."

"Certainly not," she agreed. Before long, she had the first layer of wrapping paper off and was staring doubtfully at the box. "A crib, eh? Optimistic, aren't we?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake. I found the box in the basement. Keep going."

Anya grinned smugly at him. He knew she'd been trying to provoke a response, but he was still jumping at shadows after everything that had happened and it was wreaking havoc on his psyche. She pulled the flaps of the box up with a little difficulty, but could not peer over them. "It's not breakable, is it?"

Sirius waved his wand at the box and a small door opened in the side. "That depends on your definition of 'breakable,' I suppose."

She surveyed the door with a small smile. "How old are you again? Four?" She dragged out another box from inside the larger one and settled into the armchair with it. "Am I going to be unwrapping until tomorrow?"

"Just a few more, I promise."

Once the paper was off of this one, only two small boxes remained, one rather larger than the other. "Which one do I open first?"

He pointed to the one on the left, so of course she started with the one on the right. He was glad he understood her so well. "Take my advice, why don't you," he said with a grin.

Anya stuck her tongue out at him, then finished unwrapping the gift. A palm-sized (the palm being Sirius', not Anya's) metal disc lay on her knees, glinting in the light from the Christmas tree. She looked as confused about it as he had been before Remus had explained it. "What is it?"

"It's a Magic Mirror," he replied from the floor by her feet.

She gave him a quizzical look. "What, like from Muggle fairy tales?"

"Closer to the Mirror of Erised, except it doesn't only show your heart's desire- it shows what you want to see." He smiled cheekily and winked. "It's bewitched."

Anya laughed. "I don't doubt it. Thank you, Sirius." She leaned down and kissed him softly and slowly on the lips, and Sirius was greatly tempted to make her forget all about the other gift- at least temporarily. But Anya, possessed of, at least for the moment, more restraint than he, broke the kiss again. "What's this, then?"

"How about you open it so I don't spoil the surprise?" Sirius teased. She was already delicately unwrapping the box.

She looked at it for a very long time before opening the lid, and the Magic Mirror flashed dangerously in her lap. Sirius knew that he was now doing a very poor job of hiding his anxiety and ceased to try. 

Nevertheless, when Anya looked into the small box and saw the ring there, there was some surprise in her eyes. Rather too much, if Sirius was honest with himself. "I told you it was bewitched."

"Sirius…" She was barely breathing, her eyes like large pools of quicksand in the darkness, pulling him in. Sirius made no effort to stop them; they pulled him in all the faster.

"I wrote a speech, but it made me sound like Percy," Sirius confessed quietly, unable to look away.

She made a noise that sounded like a choked off laugh. "It can't have been that bad."

"It was," Sirius assured her. "Will you marry me anyway?"

Anya closed her eyes as he slipped the ring on her finger. "Yes."


	16. Epilogue

__

The Lion and the Unicorn

Epilogue

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Well, it's been a slice, what can I say? I never expected this fic to go in the direction it did. It had more twists than I'd planned and every so often mutated into a plot that was all its own. Enthusiastic applause- Zsenya for beta-reading, Chupa and Kali ma for being great sounding boards, and Hallie for obsessing with me and putting up with not-so-subtle hints. I'd never have gotten this far without you.

And finally: There's a sequel in the making, but I'm warning you, it has more romance than plot. Sound familiar? J At first I was just going to write it to drive Hallie mad. Poor Hallie. But my poor characters just won't leave me alone sometimes… this is one of those times. Look for No Such Place, coming soon to a fanfiction archive near you! 

Worship Charlie. Visit SPARC. (http://www.sparc.8k.com)

*

"Sit down, Sirius," Remus finally commanded. "You're making Leon nervous."

"Can't," Sirius said, sounding strained. "If I don't move, I'll explode."

"You are in danger of wearing a hole through the floor," Remus informed him, following his friend's progress with his eyes. Though he was also laughing inwardly, the pacing motion combined with the pure adrenaline, confusion, and excitement of the moment was making him slightly nauseous. He shifted Leon to the other arm. "Ready to practice that full-body bind, Harry?"

Harry, sitting nervously on the other side of the room, either didn't hear him or chose not to answer. Finally he reached out his arms for Leon and Remus deposited him in Harry's arms without hesitation. 

For three of the room's occupants, this proved incredibly therapeutic. Leon stopped making a ruckus and demanding to know what was going on- as his adoptive brother, Harry had that instant maturation effect on him. Harry had something to take his mind off of- well, everything. And Remus no longer had to deal with a squirming three-year-old. 

Ginny sat, oddly quiet, beside Harry and Leon, appearing as calm as Remus knew he did. He wondered if, similarly, this was an illusion.

Sirius broke through his musings. "Where the bloody devil are Charlie and Kate?"

Remus was fairly sure he saw a smile flicker at the corner of Ginny's mouth, but as soon as he'd noticed it, it was gone again and he was made to wonder if that, too, was illusionary. He doubted it. If there was one thing he had learned about Harry's girlfriend, it was that she could read her brothers like children's books.

Bill and Anne chose this moment to burst through the doorway. "Are we too late?"

"Nope," Remus answered, ironically exactly in time with a piercing shriek from the direction of the room beyond. Bill went white. "Oh, for goodness sakes. You'd think it was _your_ wife having the baby." He pretended that he didn't see the glance that passed between the eldest Weasley son and his wife. 

"Oh, shut up," Sirius said, not really sounding like he meant it. "I'd like to see how you'd act if it was you in my shoes."

"Aren't we lucky that Remus has such large feet, then?" Hallie quipped from Remus' right, successfully diverting a repeat of the same argument that had been going on between the two best friends for, well, the nine months since Remus and Hallie's marriage.

Remus looked at her gratefully. Sirius pretended not to notice. He probably wasn't actually pretending, Remus corrected himself. He was just a little too preoccupied to notice. Which was perfectly understandable. After all, how often did ex-convicts get married and decide to have children?

He didn't ponder the answer to his question for very long. The door to the next room swung open and admitted Sirius, Harry and Leon. Bill and Anne exchanged another glance, then decided to sit and wait.

*

She was lying on the bed looking a little deflated and more than a little exhausted when Sirius entered. More than that, however, she seemed to have even more mysterious and exhilarating aura than usual; it was as if the entire room was charged with some sort of ancient magic. "Hi," he managed quietly, taking a seat beside the bed. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I just single-handedly took on Voldemort's army- and won." Anya smiled and leaned her head on his arm. "We're very lucky, you know."

Sirius managed only a nod at this point, for his attention was captured by something very new and somewhat intimidating. He heard Harry's slow intake of breath behind him.

"It's a girl," Anya whispered, apparently noting his awed stare. She astounded him. How could she be so used to her new role after only a few moments? Everything was so _new_…

"She's amazing," Sirius said. She had miniature versions of fingers and toes and cute little ears that pointed a bit and a button nose. Her perfect eyes were closed to the world, but her tiny mouth was slightly open. Without realizing he had moved, he soon found himself holding her ever so carefully. She was soft, and fragile, and very warm, and already he was beginning to feel as if she were attached to his arm. _We created this._ It was incredible. "What is her name?"

Anya smiled mysteriously. "What is her name, Harry?"

Behind Sirius, Harry shifted Leon up higher on his hip. He paused for a moment before stating a bit sheepishly, "Well, I was thinking about-" he bit his lip. "I mean, I was so sure it was going to be a boy. But I suppose," he continued, thinking aloud, "that it is a very good name, nonetheless." He took a step forward and peered into Sirius' arms. "Her name is James," Harry stated with finality.

__

James, Sirius thought. Of course Harry would think of that. It was perfect- the name had a special meaning for everyone in the family. Although it did seem like some sort of bad omen, a reference to a dark past. Perhaps this particular James would bring new meaning and happiness to the name. "James it is, then." He bent over and kissed her forehead. The infant stirred a bit in her sleep, but did not wake.

Not right away, anyway. At that particular moment, Charlie and his constant companion burst through the door, followed by Remus, who was traveling at a more reasonable pace. "Where is she?"

Harry cocked his head at him. "You _knew_," he accused. "How did you know? You knew, and Remus knew, and nobody bothered to tell the one who actually had to _name the baby_."

Charlie grinned. "I have a knack. You'll understand one day." 

"And we don't need to guess how Remus knew." Sirius shook his head. "Moony can smell what color knickers you're wearing."

Kate raised an eyebrow. Remus met her stare evenly. "They're purple." 

Her mouth dropped open. "How did you know?"

Sirius laughed. "He can smell it, I told you. He's got a nose for other people's business, haven't you, Remus?"

Remus looked affronted. "What's wrong with my nose?"

"You know Richard Starkey?"

Apparently Hallie did. "Remus does not look like Ringo Starr!" she insisted from the room outside. At least someone had enough sense to see that there was precious little space left inside. Sirius shook his head. As long as there were wizards, the room would just keep expanding, but really- little James was sleeping, for crying out loud. (Which, he noted thankfully, she wasn't yet.)

"All right!" Sirius hushed them finally. "You've seen the new arrival. Now can we have a minute with the godfathers? And Kate," he added with a grin to himself, noticing the glance that passed between Charlie and Kate even if they didn't. She probably would have left if he had asked her to, but it was getting to the point where it was almost unnatural to see one of them without the other. They weren't joined at the hip- Charlie was at work, wherever that was, far too often for one to get that impression- but you got the feeling that if one wasn't there, something was wrong with the other.

"Sure," Harry said agreeably, and, with Leon squirming in his arms to get another look at James, left the room.

The other three moved in closer, though it was apparent to Sirius that Remus was hanging back a bit farther than he should. He shot his friend a warning look, but Remus chose to ignore it and let Kate and Charlie exclaim over the baby.

"She's so tiny," Kate remarked, face aglow with the sort of look women generally got when dealing with 'cute' things like babies and unicorns and such. 

Anya snorted softly from the bed and Sirius turned merry eyes upon her. "Try saying that _after_ carrying her for nine months." Sirius had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing at the expression on Kate's face. Of course, he also felt a small stab of guilt: they hadn't planned on having children while the war was still on, but now that it had happened anyway they looked upon it as a sort of happy accident.

Charlie leaned over the newborn, smiling, and then up at Sirius. "Can I?" he asked, for once seeming almost timid.

Reluctant to give up his daughter so soon but not knowing how, exactly, to refuse, Sirius allowed Charlie to take her from his arms. He missed her warmth and the feeling that he had some power to protect her immediately and began to realize how difficult it was going to be for him when she grew up. _No need to worry about that just yet, thank goodness._

To stop himself from fidgeting unnecessarily, Sirius retreated a few steps and sat on the edge of the bed. Anya worked her hand into his and squeezed gently; he realized that letting go of James was easily ten times more difficult for her as it was for him. Something about post-pregnancy would do that to a woman. 

Kate was regarding Charlie with a very odd expression on her face. Apparently Charlie had noticed, too. "What?"

She shook her head at him, smiling slightly. "Just memorizing the picture and wishing I had a camera. Do you know how rich I would be if I sold copies of it?" Evidently Charlie needed a longer explanation. "Oh, come on. Strong man with baby? Every woman's fantasy."

Charlie laughed softly. Behind him, Sirius could feel Anya smiling. Sirius said, "Okay, you can give her back now." The other man laughed harder; the women rolled their eyes.

The laughter was interrupted by a low buzzing sound. Charlie, looking as if he wanted to curse, passed James to Kate; Sirius noticed that the practice with Leon had done him at least some good. He was no longer so awkward with small children. Charlie examined something on his wrist and bit his lip. "I have to go," he said, glancing up apologetically. Sirius noted offhand that he seemed to be talking to Kate rather than Anya. He remembered himself, though, and turned to his hosts. "I am sorry- I promise I'll take the entire day off for the christening. No more of this calling off-duty people for backup…" And he dashed out of the room without so much as a backward glance.

Sirius didn't know it at the time, but this was something of a prelude of what was to come.

__

To be continued in No Such Place.


End file.
